


The Butler Library Rooftop

by awill2020



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Cussing, Fluff with a little bit of angst, Friends to Lovers, Harry/Peter in the beginning, M/M, Okay some angst, Peter and Wade don't know the other's a super, Slow Burn, Spiderman teaches Deadpool, Verbal/Physical Abuse, Wade has thought boxes, don't worry it's well handled, grad school Peter, planned to be a long fic, sappy sometimes, self harm (well handled), sex but it's not explicit, violence bc it's DP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-06-16 22:32:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 33,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15447285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awill2020/pseuds/awill2020
Summary: Peter is a piss poor grad school student who meets Wade on the rooftop he studies when Wade is on a stake out. They inadvertently become friends when Wade keeps showing up on the rooftop, and Peter keeps studying up there. Meanwhile, Spiderman is bent on finding Deadpool after discovering he committed four gruesome murders in Columbia University. While Peter struggles with a broken relationship and balancing life, Wade starts falling for Peter. Hard.{white}[yellow]





	1. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Don't worry kids this is NOT my first fanfic-just my first time on this site (insert sex joke). There IS verbal/physical abuse in this story, as well as self-harm (Wade), so I WILL be putting trigger warnings before they come up. Please comment and kudos or whatever you want. Constructive criticism is always appreciated, as this story is NOT betaed (I do proofread though). There is also sex in the story, but I don't go into detail because I remember when I was a wee gal reading fanfiction that went dirty FAST and getting annoyed. Use your imagination kiddies! 
> 
>  
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Wade temporarily commits suicide. If you do not feel comfortable or emotionally stable reading this, please DO NOT. Your wellbeing is the most important thing.

Peter trudged down the marble steps of one of the towering Columbia University, listening to Ned and MJ bicker about the best Star Wars episode. His mind was already made up; Empire Strikes Back. But he could be persuaded to A New Hope. “Bye guys, I’m going to Butler,” Peter said quietly. Ned and MJ waved him off, having long ago resigned to Peter’s unwavering Star Wars opinions.  
While Ned and MJ headed to the subway, Peter started climbing up to the roof of the Butler Library, taking the steps two at a time in order to get up there for the sunset. He had a pack of Oreos and some Gatorade stashed up there waiting for him. When he got to the attic, he climbed up through the air vent and stuck his head out into the fresh air. Once Peter made sure no campus police were around, he tossed his bag onto the roof and hauled himself out. Stretching out onto the roof, Peter listened to the sounds of the city, staring at the cloudy grey sky. He had gotten up there a couple of minutes before the sunset. Putting his hands above his head, Peter closed his eyes and stretched.

 

Wade waited until the tiny old librarian left the Butler Library, locking the majestic front doors and walking to her car, claw-like hands clutching her purse. He stood in the shadow of a broken street lamp, watching the old woman climb safely into her Prius. Tugging his hood lower, Wade ambled up to the building, head angled down and hands stuffed in his pockets.  
{Stupid bitch. Probably calling the cops on us right now.}  
[Would you really blame her? I’d take one look at our ugly ass mug and call the cops on us.]  
Wade ignored the boxes’ rambling and kept up his unconcerned stroll towards the massive library. Looking over his shoulder, Wade turned the corner of the building and shot a grappling hook up to the roof. Checking for onlookers one last time, he released the trigger, pulling himself up to the roof.  
{Wheeeee!}  
[Shut up, dumbass, we’ve done this a million times.]  
Sighing at the undoubtedly long night of not unaliving people, Wade walked across the roof until he found the lighted office of the man to be murdered. Wade pulled his binoculars and box of cheese puffs out of his backpack and went to sit down.  
Unfortunately, something had beaten him to it. Wade sat down on a pair of gangly legs, causing him to jump up and train his Desert Eagle on them.  
[God damn, you dumbass, can’t even do a simple stakeout right.]  
{Well it’s not like we’d expect someone to be sitting on the roof of a big ass library at midnight. Other than ourselves, of course.}  
Breathing heavily, gun still trained on the offending legs, Wade slowly took in the rest of the sleeping person. Long, jean-clad legs led up to a dark blue t-shirt under a windbreaker, followed by a pale face with defined cheekbones, long dark eyelashes, and a sweep of brown hair across his forehead. There was a spattering of freckles across his nose, and his peaceful face seemed like he couldn’t be any older than twenty-five. His arms were trapped above his head, lifting his shirt to reveal a thin strip of ivory skin that Wade couldn’t seem to stop glancing at. Still, the Desert Eagle was trained on the boy’s forehead, foretelling a quick, painless death that wouldn’t even wake the kid up.  
[Look at that twink. I could just eat. Him. Up.] growled Yellow dangerously, causing Wade to shiver in the warm August air.  
{Look at the kid-he’s so young, Wade. Young, and full of hope. We were never like that. Let him live-just for tonight. You see him again, kill him. But not now.}  
It was mostly White’s deep kindliness that convinced Wade to tuck his gun into the back of his jeans. White mostly stuck to stupid jokes and impulsivity, and hearing him so… sincere made Wade lower his gun.  
Instead, Wade settled down next to the kid, training his binoculars on the third story, four windows over. A copious amount of yellow light was spilling out of the window, shadowed by a man bent over a laptop, typing ferociously. The professor leaned back, hands rubbing his eyes, relaxing into his exhaustion.  
{Snack break!} White sang, interrupting the relative silence they had coexisted in.  
[Hells yeah! Break out the cheese balls, motherfucker]  
Wade unscrewed the top of the massive jar and stuck his hand into it, groping the snacks for a gratuitous handful. He stuffed his mouth full of the cheese balls, crunching loudly and humming the intro to Fergalicious, kicking the roof to the beat.  
{Listen up y’all, cause this is it}  
[The beat that I’m banging is delicious]  
[{Fergalicious definition:}]  
“Make them boys go loco! They want my treasures so they get their pleasures from my photo,”  
[You could see me, you can’t squeeze me,]  
{I ain’t easy I ain’t sleazy, I got reasons why I tease ‘em}  
“Boys just come and go like seasons!”  
Wade was really into the song now, abandoning his cheese puffs to fully sing the song, at the top of his voice.

“Fergalicious, so delicious, But I ain’t promiscuous, and if you were suspicious…”  
Wade pointed at the kid, who was miraculously still asleep. He must be tired. Determined not to lose the song, Wade pointed back at himself,  
[{“ALL THAT SHIT IS FICTITIOUS!”}]  
With a start, and a jump, the kid sprung up, fists pulled up to his face in a sloppy form. Wade grinned, subconsciously pulling his hood lower on his face, even in the dark, starless night. “Sloppy form, kid. But I’ll give you an A for effort. You’ve only just woken up.” The kid blinked his eyes, shaking the sleep from his face. Now that he was awake, Wade couldn’t help but to admire his expressive face. Wide, expressive brown eyes under thick lashes, dark eyebrows contorting in confusion, and pouting, chapped lips with a sore on the bottom left side.  
“What the- Where the- Who, who are you?” The kid asked, eyes alert, muscles tense.  
“Dea-Wade Wilson, at your service. And you, kid?” Wade didn’t know why he told him his real name.  
[You’re not in your Deadpool costume, so that’s probably why, dumbass.]  
{True. Bet the cutie would like that, though. Riding you with -}  
Nope, Wade wasn’t going to think about that now. “P-Peter,” the kid said, lowering his hands but still alert, hovering on the balls of his feet.  
[Kill him. He’s seen us-he needs to die.]  
{We can’t kill a kid!}  
[We've done it before. Get off your high horse, White. ]  
Wade shook his head, knocking on it for good measure. “Not yet,” He growled, still shaking his head like a wet dog.  
“Uh, are you okay?” Asked the kid-Peter-concernedly, taking a few steps closer to Wade, worry etched into doe eyes. The kid had woken up to some freak singing Fergalicious. On a rooftop. At night.  
{Well the kid is also sleeping on a rooftop at night so…}  
[Yeah-freaks gonna be freaks.]  
Wade had to push away the kind of freak he hoped Peter was. “Yeah-I’m fine. Just the boxes!”  
Peter nodded, still confused.  
[Why’d you have to bring us up you dumbass? Now he’ll never sleep with us. ]  
“Okay then. Uh… what’re you doing up here? ” asked Peter, who had apparently determined Wade was not a threat, while he sat down. Wade plopped down beside him, shoving his hand back into the giant Tupperware of cheese balls.  
“Could ask you the same question, baby boy,” Wade said around a mouthful of cheese balls. Peter flushed, his pale skin almost glowing in the dark night.  
“I come up here to study… I guess I just fell asleep.” Peter said, scratching the back of his neck.  
{Aww a nerd!}  
[A nerd we should’ve killed the moment he woke up.]  
Wade ignored the boxes, as usual, and grinned, teeth covered in cheese dust. “I like to watch the city at night. Guess our paths must’ve crossed-all the better for me, Petey.”  
Peter flushed again, turning his head to shadow his face better. They sat in silence for a while, close enough for Wade to reach out and ghost his hands across Peter’s hunched back.  
Wade was spread out, relaxed, legs straight out in a wide v, hands planted on either side. Peter sat with his knees drawn into his chest, his chin resting on them. His arms were wrapped tightly around his jeans, the windbreaker rustling every now and then. They sat in a comfortable silence, taking in the city.  
Finally, Peter looked up at Wade, Brown eyes brimming with questions. “What do you like watching the city for?” He asked, hushed.  
“Reminds me of home, I guess. Used to climb up to my roof and sit there when my parents were fighting. Lights are so peaceful…” Wade trailed off.  
{The fuck you say that for?}  
[such a freak. ]  
But Peter smiled, scooting in closer. “Where are you from?” He asked now barely a foot away. The lights of the city were reflected in his eyes, all of New York contained in an organ a couple of centimeters wide.  
“Vancouver. “ Wade whispered, breath caught in his throat.  
[yes… throat. Slit his. He’s too close. ]  
{He’ll see our face. Our horrible ugly face and he’ll freak out and leave and we’ll never see him again. }  
[We can keep him forever once he’s dead. Take a few pictures, burn the body. No one else will get to see those eyes…]  
“No-no! We aren’t doing that-“ wade started to mumble, hands coming up to cradle his head.  
Wade froze. A soft, tentative hand was covering his own, holding his gloved one gently.  
“You okay?” Peter asked, concern falling like rain from his lips.  
The voices went quiet.  
Wade could think.  
“Yea-yeah I’m fine. Just a little staticky in there.” Wade grinned half-heartedly. Now the kid was sure to think him a freak.  
“So you’re from Canada? I’ve never even left the city.” Peter said, a tinge of wistfulness in his voice.  
“You’re still young. There’s a big world for you.” Wade said, instantly shocked by his sincerity. The voices, who would normally jump on him for that, were still oddly silent.  
Peter was still holding his hand. Wade looked down, surprised and confused, and Peter hastily dropped his hand, scooting back and flushing pink.  
Instantly, the voices returned.  
[What the fuck was that?]  
{Kill him. He did that. }  
[Kill that shit head. He did this!]  
Wade ignored the voices, instead concentrating on the kid in from school of him.  
Peter was smiling tentatively. “I’ve always wanted to go to Paris. And Germany. Maybe once I finish school.”  
“I’ve been to both. Paris is crowded. Germany is nice-everyone looks like they need to be on that Vikings show.”  
Peter’s eyes widened slightly. He scooted closer to Wade.  
“Where else have you been?” He asked, eyes dancing with the light of excitement  
“Uhh.. pretty much everywhere. I travel a lot for my job. I’m… personal security.” Wade bullshitted, pulling his hood further down. It wasn’t exactly a lie…  
{Yes it is. }  
[White’s right. It’s totally a lie. But that’s what we do, isn’t it?]  
Wade gritted his teeth, forcing the boxes to the back of his mind until they became nothing but a low hum.  
“That’s really awesome. I wish I could do something like that, but I’m not exactly… Security material.” Peter said, looking down at his lean frame.  
Wade tried to swallow with a dry mouth. “You’d be surprised. We gotta be mobile, strong, and smart. You’d do well.” Wade murmured, pulling on his hood again.  
Peter blushed. “Thanks,” He said, rubbing the back of his neck.  
“What’re you studying?” Wade asked, his voice sounding unusually loud in the comfortable silence they had just been relaxing in.  
“Oh! I’m a biochemistry major. I’m working on my masters. I’d love to go on to a Ph.D., but I don’t think it’s in my cards.” Peter said, his face lighting up.  
{Look at him-he’s so excited. Found his passion and everything!}  
[Wonder what that’s like. All we know is death-]  
Wade interrupted his boxes. “I knew you were crazy smart. Might’ve been the fact you were sleeping on a textbook bigger than me,” Wade chuckled, resisting the urge to ruffle Peter’s untidy hair. Peter blushed, hand rubbing his neck again. God that was sexy.  
{look at him, so insecure}  
[wanna make him scream our name, wanna-]  
Wade pushed the boxes back again. “Why biochemistry?” He asked instead, smiling.  
Peter lit up, eyes bright. “I’ve always loved figuring out how the world works. People argue that’s physics or math, but really I think it’s biochemistry. Everything’s tied together, everything relies on each other. Take one animal or plant out of an ecosystem, into crumbles. Remove one tiny electron or proton, the atom is totally different. It’s beautifully complex.”  
Wade stared. He never expected such a philosophical answer from the kid. Peter flushed, hand coming yet again to the back of his neck. He chewed on his lip, avoiding Wade’s gaze.  
[could just eat him up. Tear into him, be the best he’s ever had]  
{Come on.. we haven’t gotten laid in ages.}  
Wade ignored the boxes again, smiling genuinely. They sat, barely two inches apart, and watched the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Credits: 
> 
> Fergalicious: Fergie, 2006


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
> Here's the next chapter. I've got up to Chapter Five written, so I'll be posting again soon. It shouldn't be any longer than a week between updates, but it might vary based on my schedule. Thank you for the bookmarks and kudos! Please leave comments if you have something I should know. I've taken a few liberties with Harry's appearance, so don't hate me! Also, Harry/Peter DOES appear in this chapter, and there is some slight manipulation. It's not very obvious, but it will get clearer in the following chapters. If you don't feel comfortable, please don't read it! There is also a TRIGGER warning for a temporary suicide-it's very sudden, doesn't go into much detail, and Wade is fine, but if you don't feel comfortable, please don't read it. 
> 
> Also: there is a mention of a Mexican village in the story. I don't speak Spanish, nor have I ever been to Mexico, so PLEASE correct me if I've gotten something wrong. The village is made up, as well. Don't hesitate to comment-I love constructive feedback.
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> PS. If anyone needs a Beta, I can help! just comment :)

Peter woke up when a bird shit on his head. He was still lying on the roof of the Butler Library, curled up next to the chimney. Groaning at the bright sun, he sat up, head pounding. After a moment of sitting groggily, Peter remembered the extraordinary evening he had. Wade, their conversation, and him falling asleep on Wade’s shoulder.  
Peter absent-mindedly checked his phone. There were twenty texts and three missed calls from Harry, his boyfriend. Shooting up, Peter gathered up his books and climbed down the side of the building, ignoring the bewildered old librarian who was walking up the steps. Peter took off, running down the street towards Manhattan.  
After a few minutes, he had calmed down enough to head to the subway. Twenty minutes later, he was walking through the lobby of one of the million-dollar-a-floor high rises, smiling sheepishly at the doorman.  
“Harry’s been worried sick,” the old man said, shaking his head. Peter groaned, sparing the man an apologetic smile before jumping in the elevator.  
Peter stood at Harry’s door, steeling himself. When he walked in, Harry launched himself off the couch and threw himself into Peter’s arms.  
“Oh my god you’re okay thank god I thought someone had killed you on your way home you weren’t answering your phone and oh god…” Harry flung his words at Peter so faster he could barely keep up.  
Smiling guiltily, Peter rubbed Harry’s back soothingly. After a minute of Harry’s face buried in Peter’s neck, he pulled back, anger and confusion painted over his fair features.  
“Where were you, Peter?” He asked, his tone accusatory. “I was studying on the library roof and I fell asleep,” Peter replied, truthfully. He didn’t know why he omitted Wade-just that maybe also hanging out with a strange person he couldn’t clearly see the face of wouldn’t go over well with Harry.  
“You could’ve died, Peter! Then where would I be? You could’ve rolled off the side and broken your neck!” Harry yelled, backing away from Peter, suddenly furious.  
“Harry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I just sort of-” Peter began, but Harry interrupted him, fury blazing in his eyes. Peter normally didn’t see him this worked up-Harry was usually calm, collected; his father had trained him that way.  
“I don’t want to hear your excuses!” Harry snapped, arms crossed tightly over his chest.  
Peter hung his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Hare,” he said, his voice quiet. Ever since Harry’s father had died two years ago, he had been quick to anger.  
Harry melted, his stony features falling into an haut-relief of exhaustion. “It’s okay,” he said, voice small. “Don’t do it again. I worry.”  
Peter smiled, crossing the distance to wrap Harry in a hug. Peter rested his chin on Harry’s shoulder, feeling the man relax into him.  
Harry pulled back for a moment, looking into Peter’s eyes. Peter stared at the beauty of Harry’s face; caramel skin, broken only by a few dark freckles, bright green eyes framed by long, dark lashes, a strong jaw that Peter always kissed at when they were together, and soft lips that Peter could feel ghosting over his skin even now.  
Peter pulled Harry back in, losing himself in their kiss. It started out sweet, a reunification of two lovers, then turned heavier and stronger as Harry pushed Peter back into the kitchen table, reaching for Peter’s jacket. Peter gasped when Harry pushed him back onto the table, hands tracing up and down his body, sliding over his lean torso and further down… 

 

Wade never slept, so he spent the night lying on the roof, watching the cloudy dark sky. Peter was asleep, leaning on his shoulder and curled in towards him. Wade sat like that, unmoving, until the first tendrils of sunrise crept onto the horizon peppered by buildings. A wave of fear washed through Wade as he realized what the sunrise brought.  
{Get us out of here before he sees our face!} White hissed, urgency piercing his voice.  
[Why should we care? He’ll end up hating it-and us-anyways. Let’s give the boy a scare when he wakes up. The monster under your bed is back!] Yellow’s voice was dark, laced with venom and anger.  
Wade slid carefully from under the sleeping boy until he was free. He climbed back down the building, dropping from the fifth story when it was taking too long. Before the sun had even peeked into the sky, Wade was gone, limping away on a broken leg. Well, shattered was a better word for it.  
When Wade got back to his hole in the wall apartment, he was no longer limping. He threw the backpack full of stakeout material in a cluttered corner, then headed to the fridge. He pulled out a beer and took a swig; day drinking didn’t matter when you couldn’t get drunk.  
[look at this shit. You’re pathetic.] Yellow whispered menacingly, and Wade looked around the apartment. Bloodstains decorated the walls like a Jackson Pollock painting; the furniture was old, stained, and stabbed; there was a hole in the floor in the middle of the room, right down to the concrete. No paintings or photographs hung from the wall; Wade was using scraps of old Deadpool costumes taped to the windows for drapes.  
{[You’re fucking pathetic.}] The boxes stated.  
{Peter probably has a nice apartment that people want to live in.} White pointed out slyly; Wade could feel the itchiness of unease.  
There was one way to solve that.  
{Yes… it’s been so long!}

Wade took out his Desert Eagle and shot himself in the face. 

 

Peter rolled over onto Harry’s chest, eyes closed and breathing contentedly. Harry ran his hands through Peter’s hair lazily, looking down at his boyfriend. They had gotten together almost two years ago after Peter finally came out to Harry as bisexual.  
Even though they made up, there was still a dark pit of anger and resentment in Harry’s stomach. It was born the night his father was found, dead, in an alleyway in East Harlem. For six months, reporters had a field day speculating about what killed the CEO-he was found, two bullets in the back of his head, with a suitcase of dirty money and cocaine flooded through his system. The Feds had launched an investigation into Oscorp, taking over nine months to determine that it had never been used to launder money. Harry remembered many sleepless nights pacing through the hardwood floors while Peter perched, pale and worried, at the kitchen table.  
That dark pit was born the night his father died, and it had only grown. Before, Harry was a steady presence, always calm and collected, thoughtful and deliberate. As the weeks passed, Harry grew more emotional, more volatile, lashing out more. Peter was the only person that could calm Harry down after a night of Henny and unmade memories. Losing a father at eighteen was not the graduation present Harry was expecting.  
Peter stirred, sighing, and Harry’s stomach tightened. The dark anger inside him was only growing, fed whenever Peter was gone from him for too long, or when he caught sight of an article or story about him and his father. That resentment, that hatred of every whisper and look grew in Harry. But he ignored it; when Peter was there, the knotted pit relaxed, fading from the forefront of his mind, replaced by the want, the need, to keep Peter by his side forever.  
Peter shifted again, waking up from their afternoon post-sex nap. He smiled up at Harry, and Harry’s whole world brightened. “I love you,” Harry said quietly, brushing Peter’s hair from his face.  
“I love you,” Peter said, resting his head on Harry’s chest. They laid like that, together, until Harry’s phone rang.  
Harry groaned but checked it. “It’s Amy-the Board wants to-” he began, but Peter waved him down. “Go,” he said, sitting up. “I’ve got work in a couple hours anyway, and I need to stop by home.”  
Harry’s chest tightened at the word. Home. It was always a sore spot with them, Peter’s refusal to move in or let Harry pay his tuition. His stubbornness had fed that dark place in Harry; the fact that he was incapable of providing the basic necessities for the person he loved most in the world ate at him.  
None of this showed in Harry’s face, however. He just smiled at his boyfriend, letting his hand linger in Peter’s hair for a moment longer before sitting up as well.  
The two got dressed, Peter borrowing one of Harry’s old t-shirts. He never liked the more expensive, styled looks Harry had, so Peter stole old high school t-shirts in Harry’s bottom drawer.  
The two moved in harmony, Peter fixing Harry’s collar as the taller man made coffee. In half an hour they stood in the street.  
“Let me take you home, Peter,” Harry said softly, folding his hand into Peter’s.  
“We’re going opposite directions, Hare,” Peter said, quirking an eyebrow at him. “And you’re already ten minutes late.”  
All of this was true and reasonable, but an anger grew in Harry’s heart, and he clenched Peter’s hand briefly, tightly. Peter’s neighborhood was dangerous, and far away.  
But he said nothing. “Fine.” Said Harry hollowly, placing a cursory kiss on Peter’s lips before starting off. Peter was left standing on the road, confused by the sudden change in Harry’s attitude.  
Peter rode the subway home, books piled in his arms. He kept his eyes on the floor of the crowded subway, like the other New Yorkers. A loud couple a few feet away were conversing in heavy midwestern accents about the various sights they were to see that day.  
Peter rolled his eyes. If they asked him, Times Square was overrated, crowded, and full of hustlers.  
Peter got home with an hour until his class started. He collapsed onto his futon, staring at the blank tv hanging tilted on the wall. He stared around the one-room apartment as he melted into the couch. A kitchenette with a twenty-year-old freezer, three lopsided bookshelves stuffed to the brim, a table with mismatched chairs, and the futon Peter resided on. The bathroom, directly behind the futon, held two towels, a toilet, and an old shower Peter had to crouch under. He had lived here for two years, moving in after graduation from the community college. The scholarship for Columbia gave him just enough of a break to move out.  
A corkboard next to the shelves held post-it notes to buy vegetables, pictures of Peter and Harry, Ned and MJ, his Aunt May, and his parents. The corner of a picture still hung off a thumbtack. The picture still sat, face down, under the board. Gwen and Peter, caught mid-kiss, in front of their old school. When she left for Oxford, Peter didn’t realize she had left for good.  
Peter allowed himself fifteen minutes of peace before stuffing his backpack with textbooks and paper, changing into dark jeans and a button-down, grabbing his skateboard, and heading out the door.  
Two years ago he had snagged a job as a bartender in a fancy restaurant in Manhattan; probably because he was unfazed by the celebrities and superheroes that frequented the restaurant. The day of his interview, Tony Starks, who owned part of the restaurant, interrupted his interview to grab a bottle of top-shelf whiskey. He had given Peter a once over, asked him his name, and, without waiting for it, told the manager to hire him. Peter suspected it was the Columbia backpack sitting on the floor next to him.  
As a thank you for ignoring the almost royal status of the celebrities, they tipped very generously. Very.  
Peter skateboarded down the street towards the subway. The route he always took was convoluted at best, incredibly dangerous at worst. Half the trip was on the subway, the other was skateboarding down seedy alleys and across crowded streets. But, it got Peter there twenty to thirty minutes faster than a subway trip would.  
When Peter finally slowed to a stop outside the restaurant, the sun was just starting to dip behind the towering buildings. He had taken his time, enjoying the sounds of thousands of people living.  
Peter headed around to the back entrance, propping his skateboard next to a couple bikes. His shift lasted until midnight. 

 

Wade returned to the Butler Library rooftop at one am, even though he didn’t need to watch the professor anymore.  
{It’s because we want to see that hot piece of twink again.} White stated bluntly. [we should leave. Nothing good is gonna come from this-Petey won’t even show up.]  
Wade ignored his boxes, sipping on his slurpy noisily. When he scaled the building, he saw Peter sitting cross-legged and facing the lights of the city. Faintly illuminated by the waxing moon, Wade took in the sight of Peter in dark jeans, a button-down clinging to his lithe form, and dark hair that just would not lay flat.  
Wade swallowed his heart, pulling his hood further down and shoving his hands in his pockets. He ambled up to Peter, who was enveloped in his thoughts.  
“What’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?” Wade asked, a smile teasing his lips. Peter started but looked up at Wade with a smile.  
“Just tryna pay the bills, sir…” Peter said voice pitched high in a southern drawl.  
Wade laughed, a deep belly laugh that made Peter smile even wider. He plopped down next to Peter, unconsciously pulling his hood lower.  
“How was your day?” Peter asked, trying to peer under Wade’s hood. Wade turned away subtly, leaning back. “Boring. I’m not on a job right now, so I’ve just been… hanging.”  
[{liar.}]  
Peter smiled, leaning back again. “How long have you been in New York?” He asked, eyes trained on the skyline.  
“Well, I’ve been here a few times before. On business, I mean. But I’ll be here indefinitely-just finished a job, so I normally stay wherever I finished.” Wade felt a little stab of guilt at his lie. The professors were still breathing, but he couldn’t exactly tell Peter he was planning on slowly murdering four professors who raped a Ph.D. candidate.  
“I bet it’s amazing. Traveling everywhere, going wherever the wind takes you,” Peter said, eyes wandering over the only place he had ever known.  
{Kidnap him. Show him the world.}  
[BECOME ALADDIN]  
Wade rolled his eyes at the boxes, shoving down the part of him who wanted to whisk Peter away. The very small part of him.  
“It’s gotten better, now that I get to chose my own gigs. I was in the army-special forces. We pretty much went wherever and did whatever we were told. I went to South Africa and Sudan with them. Spent a little time in Guatemala, too.” Wade said, sitting up straighter at his mention of serving.  
{The good old days…}  
[When we weren’t around, White. Shut the fuck up.]  
“Where else have you been?” Peter asked eagerly, no longer able to pretend to admire the city. Strangely, Wade almost didn’t mind the penetrating stare he was fixed with.  
{Run.}  
[He’s trying to see our face we can’t let him see our face then he’ll hate us]  
“Most of Europe, All over Mexico, some of Africa, some South America, uhh… Russia, once, terrible experience, they have horrible tacos. Been to Japan and China a lot-those rich business moguls are super paranoid. Been to a couple of places in India. Never to Hawaii, though.” Wade listed off the places he’d been, each one causing Peter’s eyes to widen.  
“I’ve never been to Hawaii, either,” Peter said after a beat. Wade started laughing, tossing his head back and chortling loudly.  
Peter joined in, his quiet chuckle harmonizing perfectly with Wade’s uproarious one.  
After the laughter died out, Peter looked at Wade quietly. “Where’s your favorite place?” He asked, arms loosely wound around one knee.  
Wade sighed. Everywhere he had been was uniquely amazing in its own way. “Little town in Mexico. Cinco Robles-they raise chickens and corn there. In the middle of the town, there are these five huge oaks-that’s what the town was named after-and there are thousands of little ‘CJ hearts M’ and stuff like that. Sort of a rite of passage down there. Kids carve their first loves into the trees. But the people are the best. You can walk down the street and get a dozen offers for work, or dinner, and just a house to stay the night in. A little ten-year-old asked me to marry her once.”  
Wade smiled, remembering the weeks he had spent there. He had just finished a job in Mexico City, and the stolen car had broken down two miles from Cinco Robles on his way to Texas. An old man in a pickup gave him a ride, and Wade ended up staying there for five weeks, helping a family, who had just lost their eldest son, with harvests. 

 

Peter smiled. Watching Wade talk about Cinco Robles was a beautiful thing. His hood had fallen back some when he laughed, and Peter could see his bright blue eyes, sparkling with thought. The scars that covered his skin had given Peter a little shock at first, but the strong jaw, bright eyes, straight nose, bold lips, and defined cheekbones more than made up for it.  
Peter shook his gaze from Wade’s beauty. Wade was still describing Cinco Robles with passion. Peter nodded, smiling. Wade trailed off, eyes lingering on Peter’s eyes, then his lips.  
Harry.  
Peter blinked quickly, shaking his head a little. He turned back to the lights, pushing down the floaty feeling in the pit of his stomach.  
“It sounds wonderful,” He said, voice slightly scratchy.  
Wade smiled, unconcerned. “Where’s your favorite place in the city?” He asked, looking out into the metropolis with Peter.  
“Diangelos,” Peter said instantly, a warm smile drifting across his face. “Right next to my Aunt May’s. Little old bodega, right in the middle of Queens. Been there since the fifties. They make the best Italian subs. I used to eat there all the time after school.” 

Wade and Peter sat on the roof until four in the morning, when Peter let out a marvelous yawn. Wade immediately insisted that Peter go home and sleep, and Peter willingly complied. When he fell onto his futon, he drifted off almost instantly, dreaming of five large oak trees…


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I wasn't planning on updating so soon, but I've been writing like crazy! It helps that I've been laid up in bed sick and this is all I can pretty much do. I'm almost done with chapter eight! It's going pretty well. I might think about doing a sequel depending on how well this goes over. It's kind of a short chapter, but it does have a lot of violence in it, courtesy of DP. He's avenging a woman who was raped, but I don't go into detail about the assault. Enjoy!
> 
> Also: I've been writing this in Google Docs, where I can indent. If you think it'd be easier to read with spaces between the paragraphs, please tell me! This chapter kind of looks like one big paragraph, and I know I can be a stickler about grammar! 
> 
> Thanks. Let me know what you think!

 

Wade spent the rest of the night on the rooftop, watching the anthropology professor. He seemed almost innocent, calling his wife to tell her he’d be home late, typing away at his computer, and referencing a dusty old book. But Wade knew the truth. He and three other men had forced a young woman, a PhD hopeful, into sex. It was brutal and savage, and the mother of the girl had hired Wade to end the lives of those miserable men. Wade accepted instantly. 

Wade climbed down the side of the building, heading to the duffel bag he had stashed in the bushes. He grabbed it, unzipping it to reveal a cache of weapons, spray paint, and his Deadpool costume. 

After changing, Deadpool slunk through the shadows to the anthropology professor’s office. The first stop of the night. He jimmied the door open, facing the hunched back of the professor. Deadpool slunk up behind the man, making no noise until he was right behind him. 

{kill him slowly.}

[make him suffer. ]

[{he deserves it. }] 

Deadpool gave in to the boxes. He unsheathed a katana with a slight  _ shink _ , betraying his position. The professor didn’t even have time to stand up before Wade had him on the ground, beating him. 

{harder.}

[faster]

{he deserved it.}

[ _ you _ deserve this.]

Deadpool froze, his hand a millimeter away from the bloody mess of the man’s face. Deadpool had broken his nose twice, busted a vein in his eye, knocked out two teeth, and caused his other eye to swell shut. 

The man’s breath came in raspy gasps as Deadpool pulled back a little. 

“Please,” the man moaned, desperation seeping through his voice. “Let me live. I’ll give you anything. I have a daughter-please!” 

Deadpool’s jaw tightened. This man had a daughter. He raped a woman. He deserved no mercy. 

{castrate him, then kill him.}

[no! Cut his hands off, then kill him.]

Deadpool did neither. “Say her name,” he growled, gripping the man’s throat roughly. 

“Wh-what? Who? Please!” The man cried, tears leaking out of his busted eyes. 

“The woman you  _ raped _ . Say her name. Let it be the last words that pass your miserable lips.” Deadpool tightened his grip, voice low and anger barely contained. It was all he could do to not follow the boxes’ advice. 

“I didn’t-I didn’t do anything!” The man cried, frantic now. Deadpool growled, patience all gone. He slid his katana down the man, and in one clean swipe, castrated him. The boxes hissed in savage approval. 

“NO!” The man screamed, writhing in pain. Deadpool held the bloody katana to his throat. “Say her name.” He growled, causing a shutter to run through the dying man. 

“Angelica-Angelica Davis!” The man shouted, sobs wracking his body. “Please! Please let me live!” He cried, the fear of death punctuating his pleas for mercy. 

“No.” Deadpool growled, and cut his head off. 

  
  
  


As soon as Peter got home, he collapsed onto his futon, sleep taking over almost at once. He slept through the morning, until a sharp knock on his door woke him at one. 

“Coming,” said Peter groggily, tripping over the jeans lying on his floor. Opening the door, he saw Harry standing there, as impeccably dressed as always. 

“Hare! What’re you doing here?” Peter asked, both surprised and delighted to see his boyfriend. 

Harry smiled, spreading his arms wide. “Lunch?” He asked, eyes bright. Peter smiled. “Just let me get my bag,” he said, leading the way into his apartment. 

Harry’s lips tightened when he saw the tiny room Peter lived in. Harry rarely came to Peter’s, as they almost always fought over his living situation. 

Peter was oblivious to Harry’s distain, however, and the two were soon on their way to a sunny little cafe in Brooklyn. They chatted about Oscorp and school, holding hands. It was a beautiful fall day, wind blowing gently, the people of the city talking and walking around aimlessly. 

When the waitress seated them, Peter spared a glance at the television playing the news in the corner. He did a double take, then clenched Harry’s hand to get his attention. 

“Late last night, Columbia University professor Dr. James Earl was found brutally murdered in his office. Please be aware, these pictures may be disturbing.”

Pictures of the bloodied, castrated man flashed across the screen, causing Peter to feel slightly sick. “Dr. Earl, fifty seven, is thought to have been killed by the dangerous mercenary/vigilante Deadpool. On the wall holding Dr. Earl’s numerous accomplishments was spray painted ‘Angelica Davis’ , and ‘You’re next.’. Angelica Davis was a Columbia University student who committed suicide a number of weeks ago. Right now, authorities do not know who else may be targeted by the murderer next, but tells Columbia students and staff to expect increased police presence until the murderer is brought in.”

Harry and Peter watched the news outlet with gaping mouths. “That’s  _ sick _ ,” Harry whispered hoarsely. 

Peter stared, dumbstruck. Last night. While he and Wade had been hanging out, a man was being tortured and murdered. Right under Peter’s nose. A bubble of shame and anger rose in Peter. He had to put more hours in as Spider-Man. He could have prevented this, if only he had been more focused, paid more attention, worked harder. 

“Peter? Peter!” Harry snapped his fingers in front of Peter’s eyes, bringing him back to earth. 

“Peter, you can’t go back to Columbia right now. It’s too dangerous! You heard the newscaster-this Deadpool guy’s got another target.” Harry said, his voice laced with fear and urgency. He gripped Peter’s hand tightly, forcing Peter to meet his gaze. 

“I can’t just skip classes,” Peter said, brows furrowed. “Besides, I haven’t done anything to get his attention.”

Harry’s face clouded in anger. Why couldn’t Peter just do as he was  _ told _ . He gripped Peter’s hand tighter. “Don’t go back,” he said, his voice a low growl. Peter stared at Harry, surprised at how dangerous he looked right now. 

“I have class-” Peter started to say, before Harry interrupted him again. “It’s too dangerous. You can’t go-I won’t  _ let _ you go!” Harry’s voice had risen slightly, attracting scandalized glances from other patrons. 

“Harry,” said Peter warningly, raising his eyebrows. “I won’t go tonight, okay? But I can’t miss my lab on Friday.” 

Harry relaxed, demeanor changing on a dime. He loosened his grip on Peter’s hand, a calm smile ghosting his lips. “Thanks,” He said quietly. 

The two had lunch, Harry vibrant and talkative, Peter quiet and slightly broody. Maybe he wouldn’t go to class, but he would watch Columbia as Spider-Man. Harry didn’t have to know, anyways. 

  
  
  


Spider-Man cling to the side of Butler Library, surveying the university in the fading dusk. He shot a web to another building, landing on the roof soundlessly. Settling down, Spider-Man waited, listening hard for any irregular sounds. 

Spider-Man had heard nothing by two am. He almost called it a night when, out of nowhere, came a terrified shriek. Spider-Man jumped up, zeroing in on the terrified cries. 

Swinging past two buildings, Peter landed in front of a third, larger one. He climbed until he found the window the cries were originating from, then busted through the glass. 

There was Deadpool. A hulking mass of muscle covered in red and black leather. He was standing over a cowering man, katana held to the neck. 

“Stop!” Yelled Spider-Man, webbing the katana out of the way. Deadpool sighed, flouncing angrily. 

“Spideeeey, what’d you do that for? I was about to unalive him!” Deadpool whined, crossing his arms. 

“You can’t just go around killing people!” Spider-Man argues, flabbergasted he had to explain this. 

“Why not? This bastard deserves it!” Deadpool groaned. “We can even go get tacos after! It’ll be so much fun!”

Peter felt like he was getting whiplash from Deadpool’s changing moods. 

“Tell me Why!” Deadpool cried, voice wavering and off pitch, before Peter could respond. “Ain’t nothin’ but a heartbreak!” He crooned again, shimmying his huge broad chest. 

“Deadpool!” Peter yelled, patience thinning. “Leave the guy  _ alone! _ ” Deadpool ignored him, focusing on his dance moves. 

“Tell me why-ay!” He cried again, prancing over to the cowering man. 

“ _ No! _ ” Spider-Man cried, but it was too late. A flash of metal and the man crumpled, blood pouring from a deep gash in his neck. 

“What the  _ hell _ , Deadpool!” Spider-Man yelled, anger and helplessness pervading his senses, swimming his vision. 

Deadpool simply smiled savagely. He was relaxed, yet breathing heavily. 

“I know-should’ve made it last longer…” he muttered to himself, gripping the short knife tightly. 

Spider-Man was too angry to register what Deadpool said. With a twist of his wrist, he sent a web flying towards Deadpool. 

He dodged it however, dancing backwards. “Ain’t nothin’ but a mistake!” He crooned, sashaying towards the door. 

Spider-Man darted toward Deadpool, sending another web at him. Deadpool dodged it with a pirouette. 

“Tell me why!” He sang dramatically, throwing his head back. Spider-Man, angrier than he had ever been before, sent another web after him, to no avail. Deadpool charged straight at Spider-Man, causing him to jump to the ceiling to avoid the hulking mass of muscle barreling towards him. 

Deadpool swan dived out of the window, throwing a final “I never wanna hear you say!” Over his shoulder. 

Spider-Man rushes to the window, looking out at the crumpled form on the ground. 

“I want it that way…” Deadpool croaked before pushing his spine back into his body and limping away. 

Spider-Man groaned. This mission was most definitely  _ not _ a success. He swung out of the broken window, heading back to his tiny apartment in Queens. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Credits:
> 
> I Want It That Way-Backstreet Boys, 1999


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here comes the fourth chapter. Thanks for reading! There is a slight TW for emotional/verbal manipulation from Harry. Please tell me what you think!

{Two down, two to go!} White sang. The boxes were overjoyed. Wade hadn’t felt so calm and centered in a while, and the boxes proved it.

[Who’s next? Who do we get to unalive now?] asked Yellow, and Wade could almost _see_ the box rubbing it’s nonexistent hands together.

Wade stared at Weasel’s computer screen. It was three pm on a Wednesday, and Wade had gotten shot twice by a half-asleep Weasel when he snuck in the window. Weasel was now sporting a rather magnificent black eye, which Wade insisted on. {To even it out!} White rationalized.

Weasel was slurping noisily at his soda, staring at the back of his laptop. For fifteen minutes there had been silence, broken only by the occasional sigh and clickety-clack of the keyboard.

“Well?” Weasel asked, unable to bear the mystery any longer. “The fuck are you doin’, man?”

Wade glanced up, his irritation evident on his face. “My next target, you dumb shit. I can’t decide how to unalive him, you know?”

Weasel blinked. “Dude, how many people does this chick want you to off?”

“Four. Four lowlife _rapists_.” Wade growled, his hands clenching and unclenching.

Weasel whistled. “Damn. Cut the dick off, dude. That’s what I always like to do when they come in here.”

“Yeah, I did that to the first one,” Wade said conversationally. [It was pretty fun,] Yellow reminded him. {Too bad we couldn’t do it to the second one, though. At least we got to see Spidey’s hot ass.}

Wade grinned at the memory of the frustrated little spider trying to keep up with him. It was fun, keeping him on his toes. {the bug was fast, we’ll give him that,} white said begrudgingly.

Wade spun the laptop around to show Weasel. “Dr. Mark Rosen, Professor of Zoology or some shit.” Wade rolled his eyes. {doesn’t matter what he’s a professor of. He needs to die.}

“Yikes. Motherfucker’s got a son. I pity the world we live in.” Weasel muttered, scrolling through his Facebook profile.

“Yeah, well maybe this’ll teach his son not to rape people,” Wade stated unforgivingly. [hopefully, we’ll have enough time to do this up right, take our time…] Yellow whispered in a menacing tone.

Weasel shrugged in a ‘you got a point’ kind of way. “Alright. I’m going back to sleep. Don’t break another window. And if you steal anything, I’ll cut your head on and see which end grows back.” With that, Weasel left. Sister Margaret's Home for Wayward Girls was empty, save Wade.

  
  


“Ned, bro, help a spider out!” Peter groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “You’re the cyber security guru, help me find out what Deadpool’s doing.”

Ned looked up from where he was fiddling with an intimidating maze of wires and breadboards. “What, like dark web?” He asked, brows furrowed.

“I can’t find his motivation. Or rather, his _buyer's_ motivation. The only connection these two have is that they both are on a committee for Ph.D. candidates. But that doesn’t narrow it down by much!” Peter groaned again, upset at not being able to understand the pattern.

Sighing, Ned put down his toy and rolled his chair over to where Peter was sitting. They were in a dark, secluded corner of the Butler Library, hidden from prying eyes. “What do we got here?” Ned asked, angling the computer to see it better.

“You’re losing your edge, Pete,” he said as his fingers flew over the keyboard. “It’s been a while,” Peter mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. In a few minutes, Ned had pulled up shady bank transactions, but after another half hour of rooting around shell corps and overseas banks, they still found nothing.

Peter groaned, frustration buzzing around his head. “He always has a reason!” He said, hands gripped tightly into fists. “What connects these men? Who’s next?”

Ned shrugged, patting Peter’s shoulder good-naturedly. “We’ll figure it out, Pete. We always do, in the end.”

Peter nodded, hopes thwarted but still optimistic. He had faced worse than Deadpool. This would be a cakewalk. Right?

Peter continued to delve into the possible connections of the teachers. It was past 10:30, and most of the students had gone home. Every few minutes, an aged librarian would walk past, sniffing loudly. Ned chuckled every time, causing Peter to snort as well.

After the librarian sniffed for the fifteenth time, Peter had his eureka moment. Both professors, as well as two others, had put in overtime on the same night. It was a thin connection at best, a random connection at worst, but Peter jumped on it. He knew Deadpool wouldn’t strike tonight-his usual pattern meant he was due for a night off. Peter tried not to remember his unfortunate past tangles with Deadpool, who breezed in and out of town every six months or so, almost always leaving a trail of bodies in his wake.

Sighing, Peter closed his laptop. The librarian couldn’t be making it more obvious that they needed to leave. Signaling Ned, the duo walked out together. Peter gave the librarian an overly friendly smile and a little wave, clearly putting her off.

“Where are we going now?” Ned asked, eyes still on whatever he was tinkering with. “I’m going to the roof,” Peter states, glad the night hid his blush.

“Cool. I’m going home. See you later,” Ned said, still only half paying attention. Peter smiled. Half of the things he said, Ned wasn’t paying attention. He was always up in his head. MJ, though-she caught on to every little thing Peter thought. He couldn’t hide anything from her.

As Ned headed to the subway, Peter circled around to the back of the building. Normally he’d be out patrolling the streets, but between his job and getting his master’s, something had to give. Cops could handle a few nights a week without Spider-Man.

Peter checked around for bystanders, then launched himself onto the wall. Quietly and quickly, he scaled the side of the building. When he hauled himself over the building, his stomach dropped as he remembered he hadn’t called Harry.

When Peter settled comfortably on the rooftop, he called Harry. He immediately picked up, worry evident in his voice.

“Peter, I’ve been calling you! Why’re you at Columbia? Did you know another professor got killed? It’s not safe, you have to come home _now_!”

Peter blinked at the barrage of information assaulting him. “How’d you know I was at Columbia?” He asked, nonplussed.

Harry sighed. “Your phone tracker. I’ve been worried sick! What would I have done if something happened to you?” There was a dark urgency in Harry’s voice, a possessiveness that Peter couldn’t see yet.

“Babe, I had a really important class, and-”

“I don’t _care_!” Harry yelled, startling Peter. “You need to get home now!”

Peter was shocked. Harry hadn’t yelled at him like that, ever. “Peter? Peter!” Harry asked, anger fading into fear.

“I’m here,” Peter whispered, shame rising in his heart. “How can you be so insensitive?!” Harry growled. “You know I worry about you. Are you doing this on purpose? Why do you want to hurt me?” Harry sounded frantic and angry.

“Babe, babe, I’m heading home now, okay? I’ll be in my apartment. I’ll be safe. Okay?” Peter tried to placate Harry, but to no avail.

“No! Come back here, to me!” Harry shouted into the phone, shocking Peter to his core.

“Harry!” Peter said, scandalized that he would ever use that tone with him.

“Peter, I just want you to be safe. You’re safe with _me_ , not that crap hole of an apartment you live in. Baby, just come home.” Harry sounded weak, tired.

Peter gave in, already getting up. “I’m on my way, Hare. Don’t worry. I’ll be there soon.”

“I’ll send a car,” Harry said, his tone steely and cold. Before Peter could respond, Harry hung up. Confused, and a little hurt-though he didn’t know why-Peter climbed back down the building and headed towards the parking lot.

  
  


{Why are we doing this? We don’t need to stake out. We should be unaliving that bastard!}

[We’re looking for Peter, dumbass. Hoping to get a piece of that twink. It’s hopeless, though. No one’s gonna want someone as fucked up as us.]

Wade ignored the boxes, focusing on scaling the building. When he stood on the roof, he found no one up there. Disappointment bloomed in his chest, then anger at the disappointment.

{See-why’d we even bother coming up here? Peter doesn’t care about us.}

[Dumbass.]

“Maybe he’s just not here yet,” Wade said, voice weak. [sure.] Yellow muttered, voice venomous.

 Wade sat at the rooftop until two am when the boxes finally persuaded him to give up. He jumped off the roof, not bothering to care about the shattered body he would have when he hit the ground. It didn’t matter, anyway.

  
  


“Peter! Thank god. What makes you think you can just wander around the city at night? It’s _dangerous_ out there!”

Peter had barely entered the room when Harry raced towards him, berating him on his tardiness.

“You know I don’t like it when you’re out alone. Why do you always do this to me?” Harry asked voice sad with a sharp edge of anger.

“I’m sorry, Hare. I just forget about time, I suppose.” Peter said wearily, dropping his bag by the door.

“I’ve got pizza,” Harry said, leading Peter to the couch. “I’m not hungry,” Peter replied, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. “Let’s just watch a movie.”

Harry put on Star Wars, and the two cuddled together and watched one of their favorite movies.

 _Ding_. Peter pulled out his phone, seeing a picture from Ned of a huge spider. Harry stiffened next to him, glancing at the phone.

 _Nice. What’s its name?_ Peter texted back, a smile toying at his lips.

“Who’s that?” Harry asked sharply, drawing Peter’s gaze.

“Just Ned,” Peter replied, turning back to his phone.

“I wish you wouldn’t hang out with him so much. He’s kind of stupid,” Harry said casually, eyes fixed on the TV.

Peter looked up at him, confused and a bit hurt. Ned had been his friend since middle school.

“Ned’s my best friend. And he’s getting his master’s degree-he’s not exactly dumb.”

Harry stiffened, his arm wrapped around Peter tightening. “I’m just saying, he doesn’t know much about real life. It’s a good thing you have me.”

Peter frowned, but let it slide. He was tired of arguing. He didn’t want to get into a fight with Harry.

Instead, he rolled over to where he was straddling his boyfriend. “Thanks for keeping me safe,” he murmured, lips ghosting over Harry’s ear.

Harry smiled devilishly. “Anytime…” he whispered back, tracing Peter’s back, sending shivers up his spine. Peter dropped his head down to kiss Harry, hands tangled in the dark hair. Peter gasped as Harry nipped at his lip, then flipped them over and ground on Peter possessively.

“Who do you belong to?” Harry whispered, something dark in his voice.

“You,” Peter replied, breathless.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it goes, guys! I'll have another chapter up soon. I'm really far ahead in the story, but school is starting soon so this might get stuck on the backburner. I won't abandon you though! Stay tuned. And as always, please comment!


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the fifth chapter! Thanks for reading guys. TW for Wade killing himself temporarily a couple times. Here you go! Next chapter will be up by next Sunday. Please tell me what you think!

 

Wade drifted back to life, instantly mourning the emptiness of death. Next would come the boxes; he only had about a minute before they came back as well. A minute to himself… 

{What a nice nap…}

[let's go again, I almost beat Blackbeard at cards. He has a terrible tell. Left nostril flares!]

Wade ignored the voices, instead looking around the apartment. Every time he was… Revived, it felt like a really bad tequila hangover. Patches of red swam before him, mixed in with the putrid stench of bad eggs. Groaning, Wade forced himself to sit up. 

He glanced at his phone. 8:00 at night. Great-he had slept through the day. The musket shot four times to his face must’ve done the trick. 

{we’ll have to remember that next time we feel disgustingly worthless.}

Sister Margaret's was open. Wade pulled himself up, ignoring the dried up bits of brain matter on the bed, and pulled on some clothes that weren’t bloodstained. It took a while. 

[no one  _ likes _ laundry!]

Wade tugged his hood far down his head and left through the window. It was a three-story drop, but he only had a broken ankle after landing in a bin full of trash. 

[We smell like  _ shit _ .]

{literally-we just crawled past a bag full of dog shit.}

“I didn’t know we could have pets here!” Wade gasped. Now he could finally get that goldfish he always wanted. 

{We should name it Killer!}

[No-Satan!]

“Relax guys, we’re obviously gonna name it Sidvicious,” Wade said, rolling his eyes. The boxes could be  _ so  _ dumb sometimes.

[heard that.]

{You just called yourself dumb, genius.}

Wade took off limping down the street, ignoring both the sharp pain in his ankle and the mutterings of his boxes. By the time he got to Sister Margaret’s, the ankle was healed, and the voices were louder.

[What shall we drink tonight?]

{Anything! Our miserable ass can’t get drunk!}

“Weasel! Get me some Natty Lights!” Wade yelled, slamming the door open. Weasel looked up from polishing a dirty glass with an equally dirty rag. “Get the fuck out. Don’t bring that shit in here, motherfucker,” He yelled, pointing at Wade threateningly. 

A large hairy man snorted, upsetting his drink. “Need a napkin?” Wade asked, sliding in next to him. “Use your arm, shithead,” Wade chortled, jealous of this man’s ability to dull his suffering. 

The man grunted, shifting uncomfortably. “You about to fall off that chair, bud. Pull up another one for the second half of your big ass.” Wade goaded the man again. He did this once or twice a week; incite some man into a fight, beat down on him, and get kicked out by Weasel for wasting the liquor. Then he’d roam the streets, looking for more fights. 

“Dude, come on. Not tonight,” Weasel groaned, ceasing to clean the glass to give Wade a ‘don't-make-me-do-this’ look. Normally, this didn’t affect Wade, but something in him gave. 

[...We’re tired.]

{This guy looks like he’s just been dumped...}

But Wade knew the real reason he didn’t slam the man’s head against the table. He could see Peter’s eyes, the little quirk in his eyebrow at one of Wade’s stupid jokes. Wade didn’t feel like forgetting everything for blood tonight.

Sighing, Wade relaxed into the bar stool. “Fine,” He said grumpily, glaring at Weasel. The bartender knew not to try his luck and opted for sliding Wade some whiskey. It was cheap, and it stung Wade’s throat, but there was no use wasting expensive liquor on a man who can’t get drunk. 

Wade sipped at the whiskey in silence, sulking more than usual. It was a quiet night at Sister Margaret’s, with only three brawls breaking out while Wade was there. He finally gave in around three that morning when Weasel threatened him with a ban. He ambled into the dark alleyway, taking his time. He made it three blocks before he found a dumpster and stabbed himself in the stomach. The longer it took to die, the longer he stayed dead.

  
  
  
  


Peter woke up to a weak sun peeking through the blinds in Harry’s room. Harry himself was nowhere to be found, his side of the bed cold and lonely. Peter rolled out of bed, walking into the living room in his boxers.

Harry wasn’t there, either. Nor was he in the kitchen, where the coffee pot stood empty. Slightly concerned, now, Peter searched the rest of the floor, but Harry was nowhere to be found. Anger grew in Peter at the injustice of constantly having to inform Harry about his whereabouts when Harry himself was nowhere to be found. 

Peter returned to the bedroom and dressed quickly. After pulling his socks and shoes on, Peter left through the window, the front door being locked. He walked through Manhattan, stopping to get a pair of knockoff sunglasses from a street vendor. It was a Saturday; no classes, but Peter had work in an hour. Since it was the third Saturday of the month, MJ would cover his late shift at the bar. They had worked out a deal; Peter covered every Wednesday for MJ, as she had band practice, and MJ covered the first and third Saturdays of the month for Peter. It seemed unfair, but it worked for both of them; Wednesdays were slow, and Saturdays were chaos. 

Since Peter had left his skateboard in his apartment, he walked the four blocks to the subway. A few snickers and catcalls greeted him from the other walk-of-shamers, but Peter ignored them. He was already annoyed at Harry’s cavalier attitude, and he didn’t need to get into a fight this morning. 

When Peter finally got back to his apartment, he had fifteen minutes before his shift started. Changing quickly, Peter grabbed his skateboard and flew through the streets of Queens. He got to the restaurant three minutes late, much to his supervisor’s chagrin.

“Kid, you gotta get here on time! I know you’re busy, but I ain’t paying you to show up late. Now get in there! Stark already asked for you especially.”

Tony Stark!? Peter paled, the idea of serving the billionaire-turned-superhero spiking his anxiety. He had made him drinks, sure, entertained his guests, but Stark had never asked for him  _ specifically _ . “What are you doing!” Peter’s supervisor asked impatiently, shocking him from his reverie. “Get in there!” 

Peter raced in, tying his tie on the way. 

“M-Mister Stark! How can I help you today?” Peter squeaked, then turned red at his voice crack. Tony Stark looked up at him cooly, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Coke for me,” He said, not breaking eye contact with Peter.

Peter turned to his guest, then went white. Captain America-Steve Rogers-sat opposite Tony, smiling up at Peter patiently. “And you, sir?” Peter asked, recovering quickly. He had a reputation to maintain, of course. “Water is just fine, thank you,” Steve said graciously. “Of course! It’ll be right out,” Peter smiled, relaxing a little. He turned on his heel and headed towards the kitchen, smothering the fanboy freaking out in him. 

Two minutes later, Peter emerged with the drinks and a bread basket. Tony and Steve were engaged in light conversation, so Peter placed the food down quietly and made to slink away.

However, Tony looked up at him. “I was just telling Steve about you,” He began, and Peter’s eyes widened infinitesimally. “Where do you go to school, again?” He asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Columbia, sir. I’m getting my masters in biochemistry,” Peter was proud that his voice didn’t waver, that his hands stayed loosely grasped in front of him. “Isn’t Pepper looking for a biochemistry major in the pharmaceuticals department, dear?” Steve asked, a smile toying at his lips. Peter’s stomach dropped to his feet. 

“Yes, but she wants a P.h.D,” Tony mused, now ignoring Peter. Disappointment welled in Peter; working at Stark Industries was a one-in-a-billion chance. Tony then turned to Peter.  
“I think I’ll have the Porterhouse, with asparagus and potatoes,” He said, businesslike. Peter nodded, snapping back into waiter mode. “And you, sir?” Peter asked, turning to Steve. 

“I’ll have the bruschetta, please,” Steve said kindly, a hint of a smile playing at his lips still. 

Peter nodded. “It’ll be right out,” He squeaked again, and left to tend to his other tables. He had never been so distracted; he almost forgot to tell the chefs that one woman’s chicken was to be made without salt and pepper. At that, the chef balked. “Whaddaya mean, without salt ‘n pepper? You can’t make chicken without salt ‘n pepper! Who’s this bi-”

Peter had to hold the chef back from storming out into the dining area and confronting the patron. He doubted he would get  _ any _ tip from her if that happened.

Peter continued to tend to Stark and Rogers, and neither made any mention of Stark Industries, or biochemistry P.h.D.s, for the rest of the night. When they got up to leave, Tony clapped his hand on Peter’s shoulder seriously. 

“You’re a good kid, Peter. Stay in school. I’m sure you’ll get a great job, Peter,” He said gruffly, then turned and left abruptly. Steve gave Peter an apologetic smile but turned and followed his husband. 

Peter was left standing, shellshocked, rooted to his spot next to the empty table. He snapped out of it when a busboy bumped into him and told him to get out of the way. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent in a blur, with Peter going through the motions of serving the rich and famous. Later, he was pretty sure one of the Kardashians came in, but Peter couldn’t exactly remember.

When Peter was finally relieved by MJ at seven, he headed straight to the Butler Library. He had been itching to delve into the seemingly innocuous connection between the four professors all day. Half of them were dead; that couldn’t be a coincidence… 

  
  
  


Wade woke up to an Israeli woman yelling at him to get out of the trash. Groaning, Wade pulled the knife out of his stomach and rolled out of the bin. Ignoring the woman spewing profanities at him, Wade stumbled down the street, still a little groggy from the death.

{What’s next? A cheeseburger, mayhaps?} White asked in a falsely posh voice. 

[When do we get to unalive the next bastard? It’s been a whole  _ day _ ] Yellow groaned, and Wade could feel the impatience bloom in him. “We need to do some more recon,” Wade replied, his excuse weak.

It seemed to do the trick, however. {On the Butler Library rooftop?} White asked slyly. Wade let a small smile tease his lips. [I don’t get why we keep going back there. He doesn’t care about us.] Yellow whispered, watering the seed of doubt it had planted when Wade first met Peter.

Wade ignored Yellow and set himself on a path to Columbia. He would walk so he could take a while to get there; every time Peter was there it was late in the night. As he meandered to Columbia, he thought about the remaining two targets.

{Spider-Man will definitely be there trying to stop us. He found the second target-he’s not stupid.}

[Yeah, but that was just a coincidence. He was on patrol; he found us twenty minutes after we got there,]

“Either way,” Wade grumbled, “He’s gonna be on our tail. We’ll have to be careful if we want to give him the death he deserves,”

The voices were silent, which meant they agreed. They spent a couple blocks in relative quiet, until Wade past a taco stand.

[{TACOS}] 

“Tacos!” Wade gasped in unity with the boxes. He backpedaled and stared in adoration at the menu spread across the top of the stand. 

{We can get some for Petey!}

[What if he doesn’t like tacos?]

{Then he dies!]

Wade agreed; he didn’t associate with people who didn’t like tacos. Therefore, when he reached the front of the line, he ordered ten of every item on their menu. The man at the register just stared, dumbfounded. That is until Wade slapped two one-hundred dollar bills on the counter, at which point he started yelling in rapid-fire Spanish over his shoulder. Wade grinned and stood off to the side to wait for his order.

[ _ taaacoos! _ ]

{ _ and chimichaaaaangas! _ }

[ _ and pico de gallo! _ ]

{ _ and quesadillllllllas! _ }

The boxes were elated, singing odes to Mexican food all the way to Columbia. Wade supposed he looked really stupid, carrying two huge armfuls of Mexican food into an ivy league college, but strangely, no one questioned it.

{They must think we’re a student or something…}

[Kids can get away with some crazy shit in college]

Wade was still singing about Mexican food when he scaled the roof at around ten. A quick sweep of the roof showed Peter leaning on a chimney, and Wade skipped over to him.

“Mexican?” He asked, appearing in front of Peter suddenly. The kid didn’t look startled, however. Instead, he just grinned. “How much Mexican food did you buy?” He asked, mirth dancing in his voice.

[ALL. OF. IT.]

“They had to close the stand,” Wade said triumphantly. Peter chuckled, and Wade’s heart swelled. “What did you get, Wade?” He asked, pulling Wade down to sit across from him.

“Every-fucking-thing, baby boy!” Wade stated, and began pulling food wrapped in tin foil out of the bags. “Thank god,” Peter said, unwrapping a taco. “I haven’t eaten all day,” 

{He hasn’t eaten  _ anything _ ?}

[How poor is this kid?]

Wade ignored the boxes, instead swallowing a huge bite of a chimichanga. “I got enough to feed a Russian army, so eat up!”

Peter did. Wade watched him inhale four beef tacos, six quesadillas, three chimichangas, and five bags of tortilla chips. 

{true love… } white stated dreamily. Yellow made a noise of agreement, and Wade felt himself grinning widely. 

When they finally demolished the Mexican food, Wade and Peter laid back onto the roof. 

{ask him about school!}

[no; ask him if he wants to ride our-]

“So how’s school?” Wade asked, voice unnaturally high. Peter didn’t notice, however, and immediately launched into an explanation of what he did in his lab earlier that week.

{How cute can he get? He’s so excited, the little nerd… }

[And poor-an inner-city kid going to Columbia? You gotta be kidding me. How is this kid doing it? Drugs? Prostitution? Scamming people?] 

“...And that’s really the practical application. I mean, if we can mass produce luciferin and splice it into trees, we can create both energy neutral lights and a greener city!”

Wade nodded, beginning to understand. “But how’re you gonna mass produce it?” He asked, still a little confused. “I mean, how many jellyfish do you have to cut open?”

Peter smiled and leaned in closer. “That’s the thing! We don’t  _ have _ to cut open a bunch of jellyfish. We just have to breed it into e.Coli, and the bacteria will do the work for us!” Wade nodded, but most of this stuff went over his head. “Of course, there are still years of planning for it-getting the government to okay it, making sure it’s environmentally safe, and then there’s the actual  _ growing _ of the trees. And of course, someone’s gonna think it isn’t safe, or that the government’s using it to spy on them or something. But the fact is, we can do it!” Even while listing the obstacles that came with progress, Peter still sounded brightly optimistic.

[Ahh, the futility of youth] Yellow said, making his voice crackle and waver. 

{Shut up, Yellow. We’re only, like, three years older than him.}

[seven, actually.] Yellow pointed out snidely, causing Wade to pull into himself again. What was he doing, hanging out with a kid like Peter? He still had a future, a bright one, too. The kid was getting his master’s at twenty-three; he was brilliant. 

“Wade? You okay?” Peter asked, trying to look under Wade’s hoodie. Wade lurched back, instinctively pulling his arms up to guard his face. “I’m fine.” He whispered, voice barely louder than the wind. 

[Kill him he’s trying to see us he’s a spy or an agent or someone trying to  _ hurt _ us.]

{Get us out of here!}

“No, you’re not,” Peter said stubbornly, and moved closer, placing his hands on Wade’s arms. Wade froze, fear surging through him. “Wade,” Peter whispered, his voice calm. “You don’t need to be afraid.”

The voices had vanished the moment Peter touched him. Wade lowered his arms, slowly, his heart bruising his ribcage. “I’ve seen your face, Wade. Last time we hung out. You laughed, and your hood fell back. You don’t need to be afraid. I’m not.”

Peter was quiet, sincere. There wasn’t pity in his voice, like the mothers that murmured ‘oh that poor thing,’ when Wade walked by. He didn’t lie or front, telling Wade his scars were beautiful and thought-provoking. He didn’t gape and ask how Wade got them. He just… Accepted them. Wade got the feeling that Peter could see every single scar and just… Not mind. That was a rare attribute; everyone always had an opinion, an idea on how to fix him, a pitiful smile. Peter didn’t have any of that; he just smiled and pushed Wade’s hood farther back, until it fell onto his shoulders.

“There,” He said, sitting back on his heels. Wade stared at Peter, surprised and elated to see no trace of disgust or fear on his face. Peter just smiled, then sat down and gazed at the city.

“It’s gonna take a while, but can you imagine it? Every lamp, every light post, all of it. A city lit by trees.” Peter’s voice was full of hope, and Wade just stared. The boxes were still speechless, staring with awe at Peter. 

Wade’s reverie was interrupted when Peter’s phone rang.

“Harry,” Peter answered it, his voice suddenly full of stress and fear. Wade could hear a faint voice on the other end, clearly berating Peter.

Wade watched Peter soften into sorrow, then guilt. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m on my way. I know-I should’ve told you. I’ll be there soon.”

A pause.

“Okay,” Peter said, then hung up. He looked at Wade apologetically. “It’s my boyfriend,” He said, making to stand up. “He worries about me. I’ve gotta go. But I want to hang out again. Will you meet me up here Monday?” He asked, smiling hopefully. 

Wade just nodded, still shocked. Peter gave him a little wave, then headed to the back of the building, presumably to climb down it.

{Of course he has a boyfriend. We’ve been kidding ourselves. Let’s just go to Europe for two weeks and kill some motherfuckers.}

[We can kill motherfuckers here, starting with ourselves. Besides, we still have a job to finish.]

Wade waited a half an hour, then took a running start and leaped off the building. He felt his spine crack in half when he hit the ground, and he laid there, letting death take him, if only temporarily. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Here´s chapter six! Enjoy, and please leave comments/kudos if you liked it!
> 
> Thanks :)
> 
> Also-TW for emotional/psychological abuse (gaslighting) and suicide. As always, don´t read unless you feel up to it! Enjoy

 

When Peter climbed out of the Uber Harry had sent for him, he looked up at the building in dread. He knew he was in for another argument.

Peter climbed the stairs, taking his time. When he reached Harry’s floor, he knew Harry was waiting behind the solid door.

Peter’s suspicions were correct; Harry was standing two feet from the door, arms crossed, face livid. “Why do you _keep_ doing this to me, Peter?” Harry growled, voice quiet but dangerous. Peter’s shoulders slumped. “Do you like making me worry? Making me suffer?”

Peter said nothing, just staring dejectedly at Harry’s shoes. Harry crossed the space between them in two quick strides, grabbing Peter by his arms. “You just _left_ , Peter. This morning-without so much as a note or a phone call. You’re lucky I have your phone location. Why do you think you can just take off without telling me?”

Harry’s grip was tight, snapping Peter out of his reverie. “You do it to me, Hare. All the time. Three weeks ago you went to China for five days without telling me! I had to find out from Amy!” Peter’s voice was wavering, but angry. The injustice ate at Peter.

“I am a CEO, Peter! I don’t spend my days sitting around in a classroom, racking up debt, okay? I have to actually work, I have to contribute something to the world!”

Peter tried to step back, the pain of Harry’s words eating at him. But Harry’s grip on his wrists were strong, and his glare heavy. “I do a lot of world-changing research, Harry.” Peter tried to defend himself, voice small.

Harry scoffed. “Yeah, making _trees_ glow. Get out of your head, Peter! Your pipe dream is _never_ going to happen. You’re wasting your time. And your money! That is, if you had any!” Harry shouted savagely. Peter’s shame turned into anger.

“Why do you keep acting like your better than me? And my friends?” He asked loudly, face turning red.

“Because I know what the world is! I know, Peter. It’s cold, and hard, and it holds no love or sentiment! Get your head out of your ass!”   
Peter’s eyes were swimming with tears. He ripped his wrists out of Harry’s bruising grip and stumbled back, shoving his weakness down in favor of anger. “You were the one that left without a note this morning, Harry!” He yelled, backing into the kitchen table. “I woke up and you were _gone_!”

Harry’s face turned murderous. “I don’t know what you’re remembering, but I left a note by the coffee before I left. I had to go to work, you see. At an actual job!”

Peter paled. The coffee. Had he checked by the coffee?

Yes, he did. He went to make some, and it was just cold leftovers of yesterday morning.

But was it? Peter had been rushing, afraid of being late. He was angry at Harry, he wanted to expect the worst. He had done this before, after all. Forgetting Harry called him, forgetting to attend a business event with him.

Harry glared at Peter, breathing heavily. Peter looked around, bewildered. “I-I didn’t check the coffee,” He said, knowing it was a lame excuse.

Harry drew his hand down his face slowly, anger giving way to petty annoyance. “Of course you didn’t,” He sighed, shaking his head. “You never do, do you?”

Peter felt guilt swelling in him. “I’m so sorry,” He said, voice shaking. Harry crossed the room again, enveloping the shorter man in a hug. “I know.” He said, voice cold. “You always are.”

  
  


[A machete to the head!]

{No-the musket again! We were out for a whole day from that!}

[But the machete’s my favorite!]

“We got work tomorrow night, guys.” Wade grumbled, tossing his wallet on the table as he walked into his shitty apartment.

{Then our old pal will have to do!}

Wade nodded his agreement. He took out his Desert Eagle and shot himself in the face, not even bothering to get to his bed or sofa.

 

When Wade woke up, he was sprawled on the floor, basking in mid afternoon sun. The timing was really impeccable. He pulled himself up, shed his bloody clothes, and made his way to the fridge.

[We do get to fuck up that fucking motherfucker tonight, right?]

{Very creative, Yellow. Yes, we are. And we can expect a certain Spider to be there, too.}

“Yeah, he’s definitely figured out our pattern. But we can’t move it-we’re meeting Peter tomorrow night,” Wade said, pulling a carton of milk out and taking a sip of it.

[Why are we even going there? He has a _boyfriend_. A boyfriend!]

{A boyfriend who’s probably rich, hot, and successful.}

[One who doesn’t live in an apartment that looks like a crack-house-turned-horror-movie-set.]

“Yeah, well we committed. We’re badasses, not anarchists.”

The boxes didn’t argue. Wade was always good for his word.

{One of the only redeemable qualities about us.}

Wade got dressed in his Deadpool outfit, arguing with the boxes about what they would eat after the job. Yellow always wanted Mexican, but White was angling for buying three cakes and eating all of them. Wade was thinking about Thai, but the boxes shut that down quickly. Last time he had Thai was before Weapon X.

Wade started humming _Toxic_ by Britney Spears. He always worked better to a soundtrack, but the last time he brought his speakers it didn’t go well.

 

[Baby can’t you see…]

{I’m falling}

“A guy like you should wear a warning!” Deadpool sang in a high falsetto. He skipped down the hallway towards his target, Dr. Henry Everton. Banging the door open, he stopped mid song.

Spider-Man was there already. “Hey, Deadpool! A little late, aren’t you!” He grinned, sitting back in the professor’s chair. He steepled his hands together, peering at Deadpool over them. “We need to talk about your attendance in my class,” Spider-Man said in mock seriousness.

[KILL HIM]

{I don’t know man, he’s kinda funny}

“Spidey,” Deadpool growled, “Where’s Everton? I gotta job to do.”

“Yeah, about that,” Spider-Man said, leaning forward and twirling a pen between his fingers. “You can’t kill Dr. Everton. He’s a busy man. Got papers to grade, students to teach,”

“Grad school students to rape,” Deadpool growled, interrupting Spider-Man. The smaller hero blanched, dropping his bravado and hesitating.

Deadpool launched into action, diving over the desk and tackling Spider-Man. “AaArrgGh!” Spider-Man groaned, but sprang into action.

The two grappled for leverage, Deadpool crashing his fist into Spider-Man’s side.

[Haha, yes!]

{We need to get to the Professor!}

Spider-Man webbed Deadpool’s fists together and climbed on top of him, slamming his fist into Deadpool’s face.

[OUCH]

{MotherFUCKER}

“That’s enough!” Deadpool roared, throwing Spider-Man off him. “Where. Is. Everton!?” He roared, towering over Spider-Man.

Spider-Man sprung up, fists clenched. “What makes you think you get to decide who lives and who dies?” He asked, barely controlling his anger.

“Because this guy is a bad man!” Deadpool argued, and the boxes agreed vociferously. Spider-Man stared at him, flabbergasted. “He needs to face the law, Deadpool!” He said, exasperated.

“This guy’s above the law! His brother’s the police commissioner, his aunt’s a judge! He doesn’t have to answer to anyone! So he gets to answer to me!” Deadpool yelled savagely, tiring of arguing with the young superhero.

Spider-Man webbed Deadpool’s legs together in a surprise move, causing him to topple. “There’s always another way,” He said softly, before webbing Deadpool’s arms to his torso.

{GET US OUTTA HERE}

[We’re tied together, genius!]

“Let me ouuut!” Deadpool growled, struggling fruitlessly. Spider-Man just smirked, flipping open his phone and dialing the police.

“Hey, yeah. I got Deadpool in Columbia. He’s tied up. Yeah. Probably trying to kill someone. Uhh, the Havemeyer Building. Room 24601. Yep. Aaalrighty! Oh-this is Spider-Man, by the way! No I’m not waiting for the police! Because you’ll arrest me!”

Deadpool rolled his eyes. “I’m going to get out of this. And then I’m going to kill Everton. And next time I see you, you better watch out!”

{ _yiiissss_ , vague threats!}

[our favorites! It leaves so much to the imagination!]

Spider-Man didn’t look impressed. He just rolled his eyes and backflipped out of the open window.

“MotherFUCKER!” Deadpool yelled again. He yelled it two more times, until he finally wrenched his arms and legs out of the webbing.

[That seems like it worked! Maybe we should yell motherfucker more!]

{That’s Samuel L Jackson’s trademark, asshat! Don’t mess with him.}

“True.” Wade panted, pulling the rest of the webbing off him. He stood up and dusted himself off.

“Where were we?”

[It’s dangerous]

{I’m falling}

“There’s no escape, I can’t wait!” Wade continued. Spider-Man might not have known where Everton was, but Deadpool did. He danced around the office, resetting the room.

{I need a hit!}

[Baby give me it!]

“You’re dangerous!”

[{I’m lovin it!}]

“We should get McDonald’s after this!” Deadpool gasped, right before flipping off the lights.

Fifteen minutes later, the door creaked open. Deadpool laid his katana right across Everton’s throat. The man stiffened, then stood still. “What do you want? I’ll give you anything. Don’t hurt me!”

“Woooow, straight to begging, huh? You really are a piece of shit.” Deadpool growled, then kicked Everton’s knees in. The man wailed, but Deadpool just laughed.

“How long should we make you suffer?” Deadpool asked, causing the man to whimper again.

[CAStraAtion!] Yellow sang cheerily.

But Deadpool was rudely interrupted by loud police sirens. “Aww fuck!” He cried, really disappointed. “Guess we gotta do this quickly, right?” He asked, leaning in to smile at Everton.

Everton gasped, tears rolling down his face. “N-no! Please!”

“This is for Angelica Davis,” Deadpool whispered savagely, before sliding his katana cleanly across Everton’s neck.

  
  


Peter groaned, burying his head in his arms. MJ sat across from him, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee. “Getting a B in lab is _really awesome_ , Peter! You should be proud! From what I hear, it’s incredibly hard.”

Peter glared up at MJ, fingers playing with the large sweatshirt he had donned to hide the rings of bruises around his wrists. They would fade in a day or two, but MJ and Ned would freak out if they saw them. Peter convinced himself that they weren’t that big of a deal; it was an accident. Harry would never hurt him intentionally. Besides-Peter was _Spider-Man_ , and ordinary people couldn’t hurt him.

“Let’s just go,” Peter muttered, glancing at the clock. 8:15. He had class at ten, but he didn’t want to sit around. Unfortunately, he couldn’t swing around as Spider-Man in the middle of the morning. “Dude, you haven’t even gotten your croissant yet! What’s going on with you?”

Damn it. MJ was always so perceptive. “Harry and I got into a big fight last night,” Peter muttered, avoiding MJ’s gaze. “How did it end?” MJ asked, smiling sympathetically at Peter. She always asked that question, no matter what Peter was upset about.

Peter groaned and buried his head in his arms.

“Sex?!” MJ gasped loudly. Peter glared up at her. According to MJ, make-up sex was the worst thing that could end an argument. It didn’t fix anything, and no-one talked about the actual fight afterwards.

“Did you want it?” MJ asked quietly, putting a hand on Peter’s arm. “I mean…” Peter trailed off. He hadn’t _not_ wanted it…

“Peter!” MJ groaned, covering her face in exasperation. “What are you _doing_ , man!” Peter sighed. “I know, I know,” He said placatingly, taking a tiny sip of his coffee. “You’re a mess,” MJ said sternly.

“I _knooow_ ,” Peter groaned, burying his head again. MJ sighed. “Come on. You gotta eat. You’re croissant is here, you know.” Peter looked up, hope in his eyes.

The chocolate croissant was sitting, beautiful and perfect, on a warm plate. Peter let out a strangled moan and grabbed it.

MJ laughed as Peter devoured the croissant. “Make it last, man! That thing was five bucks!” She said, her voice lacking any real conviction.

Peter groaned in bliss. “Manhattan is the _worst_. Why’d you move here, MJ?” MJ laughed, stirring a wood stick in her coffee slowly. “What can I say? Manhattanites got issues. It’s easy pickings for therapists. Especially those rich fuckers that like to complain,”

Peter stared at MJ blankly. “I mean, I care so much about all of my patients. I do, really!” MJ said in a defensive tone in response to Peter’s arched eyebrow. Peter laughed, glad the conversation had steered away from him.

MJ paled, staring at the TV behind Peter. He twisted around, and gasped. Dr. Everton was on the news, dead.

“Authorities say that Deadpool, a dangerous mercenary and vigilante, committed this murder. 911 operators had received a call from Spider-Man, alerting them he had contained Deadpool. When police got there, they found broken webs strewn around the ground. Obviously, Deadpool broke free, leaving us to wonder if Spider-Man really is the saviour of New York he has been named. More on this story at nine, Jeff?”

MJ sighed, covering Peter’s hands with her own. Peter was devastated; he failed. He never before let a criminal get away, let alone to continue their crime! “Peter, it’s okay. You can’t win everything. You just have to keep trying, okay? You’ve gone up against Deadpool before and run him out of town. You can do it again. This is just a little setback, that’s all!” MJ said urgently, not giving Peter a chance to spiral.

Peter stared at his coffee blankly. He let MJ comfort him until she had to leave, at which point he just wandered around the city, classes having been cancelled due to the incident. He couldn’t tell you where he went, or what he thought about-it was all a blur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Credits
> 
> Toxic: Britney Spears, 2003


	7. VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here's the newest chapter. Please leave kudos/comment your thoughts! I love your feedback! TW for some emotional/verbal abuse by Harry (Don't worry guys, he's almost gone), and mention of suicide by Wade. Love ya!

Peter sat on the rooftop, trying to ignore the itchy feeling that Wade wouldn’t show up this time. Their relationship was an unordinary one, to say the least. For the past month, Peter and Wade had been hanging out at least twice a week on the rooftop. Mostly they talked about the world, what was happening in the city, and life in general. Peter had a lot of thoughts, and Wade could keep up with him. It was almost like Wade and Peter had a weird little philosophy club together. But would he show up again this time? Did he suddenly remember that hanging out with a broke college kid was lame? Or was he on a date with someone-a beautiful woman or a handsome guy? Peter felt himself growing oddly jealous at the thought of Wade falling in love with someone… else. 

_ Shut. Up. _ Peter told himself, trying to rub the blush off his face. He had a boyfriend, one that he really loved. And Wade was probably straight, and even if he wasn’t, why would he date a kid like Peter?

Peter was shocked out of his reverie when he heard the thump announcing Wade. He spun around when he heard a heave, then a loud “Fuck!” followed by Wade scrambling up the tiles.

“I know, I know. We’ve done it a thousand times. I’m carrying food, geniuses! Not like you two could help,”

Peter grinned. He didn’t exactly know who Wade was talking to the first night they met, Wade had mentioned something about ‘the boxes’, and his brain being… Staticky? Peter couldn’t remember exactly. But Wade was really kind, and sweet, and Peter didn’t mind if he had a couple voices bouncing around up there. 

“Over here!” Peter called, craning his neck to try and see Wade. A moment later, Wade plopped down next to him, arms filled with food. “What’s this?” Peter asked, laughing. 

“Korean tacos, baby boy!” Wade grinned, passing two of the four bags over to Peter. “Real small joint tucked away in Koreatown, right next to an  _ amazing _ foot massage place. I feel like my feet are clouds!” 

Peter laughed again, and Wade grinned. He wasn’t wearing his hood, and Peter could see his bright eyes sparkling in the light of the city. The grin slipped off Peter’s face, and he stared at Wade’s eyes, entranced. 

Wade caught Peter’s gaze. “Sorry,” He mumbled, reaching for his hood. Peter could almost  _ see _ Wade retreating into himself. 

“No-” Peter said softly, catching one of Wade’s wrists. “Don’t.”

Wade looked at Peter’s hand, stunned. Then his face transformed into a dark anger. Peter paled. “Sorry-I didn’t mean to-I just thought-I wanted you to be yourself,” Peter said, a little frantic. But Wade ignored him, taking his arm softly. 

“What happened?” He asked, pushing Peter’s sweater arm back gently. “Who did this to you?” He asked, voice still carefully controlled, concern leaking through. “Nothing… I just… Fell off my skateboard,” Peter said weakly.

Wade arched an eyebrow. “Did your boyfriend do this?” He asked, voice urgent and eyes locked on Peter’s. “He-he didn't mean to-” Peter began. Wade growled, standing up. “Where is he? Who is he? I’m gonna tear him apart!” 

“No! You can’t-please don’t!” Peter said, tugging on Wade’s arm. Wade froze at Peter’s touch, looking down at him and breathing heavily. Slowly, as if forcing himself to, Wade sat back down. “Thank you,” Peter breathed, keeping his hand on Wade’s arm. 

“If he hurts you again, you have to tell someone. Me, your aunt, anyone. Okay? Wade said, still urgent. Peter nodded, tears welling in his eyes.

“Hey hey hey, it’s okay. What’s wrong?” Wade said soothingly, wrapping his arms around Peter. “My-Harry’s just been so, so  _ different _ lately,” Peter sniffled, feeling like an absolute idiot. He was spilling his heart to a guy he only saw on a rooftop, someone he might have feelings for. But strangely, Peter felt like it was right. 

“We just keep getting into fights, and-and then he acts like we never did, or that I blew it out of proportion, and he tells me I’m just tired and overworked, and then he just disappears and I don’t know where he goes. And then when he gets back, he acts like I’m an idiot for not checking the  _ coffee machine _ for the  _ note _ , and I  _ checked _ the coffee machine, but I can’t remember and I’m so confused I think I’m going insane!” Peter was sobbing now, burying his face into Wade’s jacket. He felt ridiculous, and childish, and stupid. He could see Harry now, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. 

_ What are you doing, Peter? Can’t you see this man is dangerous? You only see him at night, on a rooftop. God, Peter! Why do I have to take care of you all the time? You’re just a child! Come on, we’re going home. _

Peter sobbed harder, imagining Harry’s reaction to him. He  _ was _ just a child. He didn’t own an actual bed. He ate maybe one meal a day. Who was he kidding? He needed Harry. To take care of him, make sure he’s okay, keep him alive and healthy. He had only started eating vegetables after Harry forced him to grow up. His fridge now held more than a box of pizza he would live on for a week. The two years he and Harry had been together had been  _ amazing _ . He couldn’t just let that go.

“Hey, Petey, it’s okay, You’re gonna be okay,” Wade said in a soothing voice, ruffling Peter’s hair. “Just get it out. Yeah-there you go,” He said, and Peter buried his head into Wade’s chest, breathing in the scent of him.

He smelled like old cars and some kind of oil and faintly of tacos. Peter cried for another ten minutes, letting Wade comfort him without speaking. When he finally stopped crying, Peter looked up at Wade, eyes and nose red. “I’m sorry,” He choked out, sniffing loudly. “You must think I’m an idiot or something,”

Wade chuckled, looking down at Peter. “Not at all. You can’t be more messed up than me, Petey. Don’t worry about it.” Wade grinned weakly, ruffling Peter’s already messy hair. “But what you  _ do _ need to worry about is how cold these tacos are getting!” Wade pulled a huge taco out of seemingly nowhere and took a giant bite, sauce dribbling down his cheek.

Peter resisted the sudden urge to reach over and kiss off the escaping sauce, instead sitting back on his heels. He rummaged through one of his greasy paper bags and pulled out a taco, taking a bite and moaning. “It’s so  _ good _ !” He groaned around the taco. Wade grinned widely, and Peter found himself feeling insanely happy. It was as if the last fifteen minutes didn’t happen. He was here, with Wade, and he was happy. 

“Where do you find this stuff? It’s so good!” Peter exclaimed around a mouthful of taco. “I got a lot of time on my hands, baby boy! Most of my work is short term, and I get paid. A  _ lot _ .” Wade grinned. “That’s awesome! I work all the time and I get minimum wage. But it’s worth it. When I graduate, I’m gonna be able to do anything! Biochemistry, baby!” Peter yelled, arms outstretched, towards the bright city. Wade laughed, starting on his third taco.

“Baby boy, you are gonna change the world!” Wade said, grinning at Peter’s excitement. 

Peter’s face fell. “Harry doesn’t think so,” He said quietly, suddenly remembering the slight breakdown he had just minutes ago. Wade stiffened, but said nothing. “He thinks I need to get a real job, in business. That I’m wasting my time and money.”

Wade scoffed. “Harry doesn’t know jack shit. He sounds like a bougie rich boy,” He said, keeping humor in his voice. Peter laughed. “You’re right! He’s the CEO of Oscorp! He drove up to our high school every morning in a limo!” Peter laughed wildly, unconsciously scooting towards Wade. Wade leaned in closer, as well. 

“Tell me about yourself, Peter,” Wade said sincerely. “I wanna know everything,”

Peter smiled widely, the happiest he had been since the last time he saw Wade. “Okay,” He said, scooting in. “But don’t get disappointed, Wade!”

Wade gazed into Peter’s eyes. “You could never disappoint me, Petey,” Peter’s smile slipped as his heart started beating faster, causing his cheeks to heat up. It lasted only a moment, however, before Peter smiled again.

“So, I’ve lived in Queens all my life, mostly with Aunt May. You already know my boyhood tragedy, though, so no need to go into that…” 

 

Wade and Peter spent the night on the Butler Library rooftop, talking and eating tacos. The tacos didn’t last long, but Peter thought he could never run out of things to talk about with Wade. He told him about high school, and spending three years in community college before finally getting a scholarship to Columbia. He told Wade about Harry, how it started out so amazing, like they were meeting and falling in love every day. Then his dad died, and the lawsuit, and how he spent more and more of his time at the company. Peter told Wade about Gwen, and how it ended so suddenly. He told Wade about Ned and MJ, his two best friends. 

And in turn, Wade told Peter about himself. About his crazy family, and bouncing around the foster system. He told him how he never enjoyed school, how he joined the army right after finishing high school. He told Peter about his time with the special forces, spending years fighting on the X-Force for the US Army until he was dishonorably discharged for being a loose cannon. He told Peter about falling for Vanessa, and how it ended from cancer. He told Peter that he went to a grassroots healing center and that it  _ worked,  _ but it gave him these scars and these boxes in his head. He told Peter about traveling the world and helping people who needed it. He told Peter that he had never told anyone all of this before.

“I’m glad you told me, then,” Peter said softly, smiling up at Wade. Wade grinned back down at him. They were laying side by side on the roof, Peter on his back, Wade on his side looking down at Peter. 

They sat there until Peter stiffened, around four am. Wade sat up, concerned. Then Wade heard it. Someone, standing at the bottom of the Butler building, shouting for Peter. A few seconds later, a bright flashlight lit up Wade and Peter, sitting on the edge of the building.

“Peter, what the fuck are you doing!? Get down here!” Harry yelled. Peter had never heard him this angry. He paled and turned to Wade. “I have to go. I’m sorry,” He said, then began climbing down the building before Wade could say anything. 

Wade followed Peter, even though Peter kept telling him to stay out of it. When he reached the ground, Harry grabbed Peter’s shoulders possessively. “What were you  _ thinking _ ? How long have you been doing this? And lying to me about it?! You’re even dumber than I thought. Jesus, Peter! With this freak!?” Harry’s voice was dangerously low, and his grip on Peter’s arms tight and unforgiving. 

“Harry, I’m sorry!” Peter gasped, trying to get a word in edgewise. “Jesus fuck, Peter! You’re always sorry. When are you gonna grow up? You’re twenty-three, for Christ’s sakes! I can’t believe you!” 

Wade reached the ground, his boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. “Leave him alone,” He said to Harry, glaring and breathing heavily. “And who the  _ fuck _ are you? Are you cheating on me with him, Peter? Jesus, you don’t think you could do a little better than this fuckface? Come  _ on _ !” Harry spit out, and Peter started shaking, tearing up.

“I’m sorry, babe I’m sorry. I was wrong, let’s just  _ go _ ,” Peter said, grabbing Harry’s hand. Harry was breathing heavily, glaring at Wade and Peter in turns. “Yeah, alright. Let’s go. We’ll talk at home,” Harry said, gripping Peter’s hand so hard that his knuckles went white. 

“Don’t,” Peter whispered to Wade as they passed, and Wade stood down. He looked ready to kill Harry.

  
  
  


Wade watched the limo fade into the New York traffic, still breathing heavily.

[We need to  _ kill _ that motherfucker!]

{And what would Peter say? He’s in love with him, for fuck’s sake.}

“Whatever that is, it’s not love,” Wade growled, still frozen to the spot.

[For once, I agree.] Yellow said, surprising Wade and White.

{Well, we need to kill  _ someone _ }

“The last professor. Doctor James Carlson,” Wade said, a dark energy flowing through him.

[yes!]

{not yet! We don’t have the time to do it right. It’s almost sunrise.}

Wade growled, but he had to agree. He didn’t want to rush this, not like Everton. Instead, he walked to Sister Margaret’s, hoping Weasel was feeling liberal with his shotgun. 

He was not. He was feeling liberal with his whiskey, because he was passed out on his counter when Wade walked in, carrying the busted padlock. 

[wake the fucker up!]

{no-draw a mustache on him!}

Wade ignored his boxes, sitting down on the wobbly stool next to Weasel and taking a sip of his whiskey. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Weasel. You do  _ not _ drink good whiskey, bud,” Wade said, and Weasel didn’t even move. 

[let’s just cut his nose off] Yellow suggested, but Wade ignored him. He took another sip of his drink, letting his rage fester. “Have I told you about Peter? He’s the best. I’mma tell you about him again, though.” Wade looked at Weasel, and when he didn’t stir, Wade continued. “He’s a student at Columbia. He’s getting his master’s degree in biochemistry, and he might go on to get a P.h.D. I’ve been telling him he needs to go for it, even if he doesn’t use it. He’s just  _ so _ smart, Weas! He’s got this crazy good idea about making trees into lamps or some shit, I don’t know. He’s too smart for me. And he’s got this boyfriend that’s a total ass. I mean, he left bruises on his wrists! Now, I’m all for a little recreational scolding, but this guy is bad news. I think he’s gaslighting Peter. And I can’t do anything about it. Peter-he’s just so… Good. I keep finding myself… Shit, I don't know. What am I, a thirteen-year-old girl? The fuck am I doing?” Wade groaned, preparing to stab himself in the thigh as a distraction.

“Sounds like you’re into the twink,” Weasel muttered, voice muffled by his arms. Wade jumped, throwing his knife at Weasel’s face just as the bartender sat up. It landed right where his face had been, quivering.

“Motherfucker, Wade! Why do you always do this? Like, a third of the stab marks and bullet holes in this bar are from you!” Weasel yelled, voice croaky. Wade smirked, taking out another knife and twirling it on the scarred wood bar.

[It’s so he remembers us!]

{Like we’re going anywhere. We can’t die, genius.}

Weasel glared at Wade. “You look  _ rough _ , Weas! How much did you drink last night?” Wade asked, purposely loud.

Weasel shushed him, cradling his head. “It was ladies drink half off,” He muttered, reaching over the bar to grab a vodka bottle. “It’s water,” He said in response to Wade’s raised eyebrows. “And you’re a chick, now? Good for you Weas. Always knew you were queer,” Wade said, taking another sip of the whiskey.

“Hey-stop drinking that. Or at least pay for it. And no-the chicks were getting  _ me _ wasted. It was fun. And my night off. Trix was manning the bar,” Weasel said, before chugging water-vodka.

“Did Trix drink her paycheck too?” Wade asked, snorting. 

“You know, you really aren’t that funny, shithead,” Weasel muttered good-naturedly. Wade grinned, taking another sip. “Yeah yeah. You look like an old avocado fucked a decomposing rat whose mom was also his aunt. Go sleep, ass.”  
Weasel glared at Wade’s insult. “B minus,” he grumbled, before sliding off his stool and heading to his room in the back. “And stop drinking my fucking liquor!” He called over his shoulder, then winced at his loud voice.

Wade laughed, then tipped the rest of the whiskey back. 

[All right. Time to go home.]

{We can die for the afternoon, then fuck Carlson up tonight.}

“Sounds like a plan, fuckers,” Wade said, and left, leaving the broken lock and empty bottle on the counter.


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here's chapter eight. It all kind of comes to a head here, but the story is far from over! Please r&r- I love feedback! There's also a TW for physical/emotional/verbal abuse in this chapter. AND, if you see anything in my story you think has been misrepresented (like reactions to physical abuse, for example) please comment or pm me. I want to remain accurate and I don't want you guys to get offended or upset at my story. This goes for future and past chapters, as well. Enjoy!

 

Peter stared at the dark ceiling. Harry was sleeping soundly next to him, sheets twisted around his naked body. Peter touched the bruise blooming on his eye softly. He relived the memory of their fight involuntarily, silent tears running down his face. 

 

_ Harry said nothing on the car ride home, sitting in stone cold silence. He said nothing as they rode up the elevator. When they finally got to Harry’s floor, Peter turned and looked at him, expecting him to say something. _

_ Harry glowered. “Why are you so stupid and reckless, Peter?” He said, voice low and angry. “I love you, but you only think about yourself. Who was that freak on the roof with you? Are you cheating on me with him?” He asked, voice steadily getting louder.  _

_ “No,” Peter whispered, shrinking into himself. “What the hell are you doing, Peter!? You need to get your life together. Let me help you, okay? You’re piss poor and you eat pizza all the fucking time. It’s time to grow the fuck up, okay! You’re stupid for thinking you can do this, Peter. No one can! You’re an idiot Peter. What happened to you! When are you going to start listening to me!?” Harry was yelling now and stalked up to Peter, who couldn’t think of anything to say.  _

_ “Well!?” Harry demanded, voice loud. Peter stared up at him, doing his best not to cry. Harry grabbed his arms, shaking him. “ANSWER me!” He yelled, eyes red with rage. _

_ Peter was petrified. He couldn’t say anything. After a moment, Harry let go of him, relaxing a little. He walked away a few steps, then turned around, fists clenched. He threw a punch at Peter’s eye, knocking him to the floor.  _

_ “Well!?” He asked, towering over Peter, who couldn’t keep his tears back. _

_ “I’ll do it. I’ll move in with you, I’ll do whatever you want. Don’t leave me. I love you, Harry, I need you!” Peter was sobbing, thrown to the ground. _

_ Harry sank down to Peter’s level, taking his chin in now-gentle hands. Peter flinched, but Harry ignored it. He kissed him softly. “Let’s go to bed,” Harry said softly. Peter looked up at him, eyes red. “I love you,” Harry said, and Peter melted. _

 

Peter turned his head and looked out the window. It was dawn, and the city was becoming busier by the minute. He didn’t want Harry to see his eye when he woke up. So Peter shook his boyfriend’s shoulder gently until Harry opened one sleep-filled eye. 

“I’m gonna go to my apartment and start packing,” Peter said, the lie tasting bitter on his lips. Harry tightened his arms around Peter’s waist, and Peter stiffened, but relaxed. “Don’t take too long,” Harry murmured into his pillow. Peter felt nausea rise in his throat, but kissed Harry’s forehead and climbed out of bed gently.

Peter got dressed quickly, keeping his tears at bay. Every few minutes, he couldn’t help but to touch the purple-blue bruise on his eye. He had an accelerated healing factor, but it would still be a couple days before his eye was back to normal. His wrists were already healed, though, so that was good.

Peter left quietly, closing the door behind him with a dull  _ click _ . He kept his head down and his hood up, not responding to the doorman’s friendly good morning. He walked to the subway, not feeling like meandering this morning. The ride home was a blur, and soon Peter found himself standing in his apartment, teary-eyed.

_ Wade. _ He needed to tell Wade-he had promised him. Peter pulled out his phone, hands shaking. He realized he didn’t have Wade’s number, so he called Ned after a minute of breathing deeply, getting himself under control.

“Hey, dude, what’s up?” Ned asked, answering at the second ring. Peter steeled himself, trying to keep his voice light.

“Heyy, man! Can you do some digging for me? I need the number of Wade Wilson,” Peter said, trying to stay casual.

“No problem dude! I love chaotic info digging. Give me fifteen minutes. Cue knuckle crack! I’ll call you when I get it,” Ned said, excited at the prospect of some light hacking.

“Thanks, Ned. You’re the best,” Peter said, his voice still carefully controlled. “Later!” Ned said before hanging up. 

Peter breathed a sigh of relief. Ned might seem a little oblivious, but he was really intuitive with his close friends, Peter and MJ. He never asked Peter about the semi-shady things he asked Ned to do-Peter didn’t know if Ned just assumed it was Spider-Man business, or if he could tell that Peter didn’t want to talk about it. Spider-Man aside, Ned was always up for some quasi-legal hacking. 

Peter collapsed on his futon, resisting the urge to poke his bruised eye. He laid there until his phone rang again. It was Harry. Peter answered it with a feeling of dread. 

“Hey, Peter. Just checking in to make sure you got home safe,” Harry said casually as if their fight had never happened. “I’m good. Just packing up,” Peter said cheerfully. He was getting too good at lying.

“Well, it’s not like you’ve got a lot to pack,” Harry chortled, and Peter winced at the subtle dig. “I’ll see you soon. Come by my office for lunch,” Harry said authoritatively, and Peter curled up into his futon.

“Alright. I’ll see you-” the line went dead. Peter dropped his phone onto his lap, staring at it until it buzzed again. It was a text from Ned, with a phone number, followed by another text.

**Dude has 2 numbers i could find. i think ones his business. this is his cell**

Peter opened up the message, responded  _ thanks _ , then stared at the number.

He texted Wade.

**Hey. It’s Peter. Harry and I got into another fight when we went home. It was bad. I don’t know what to do.**

Peter turned his phone off and laid down, steeling himself for work that afternoon. He’d have to go down to a pharmacy or something, get some concealer. He had to work-rent was due in a couple weeks and he’d already had to turn his heating off. 

Peter gave himself five more minutes before dragging himself out of the futon. Harry wouldn’t expect him for another four hours, so he had time. He walked downstairs, shamefully avoiding the gaze of the other tenants. He didn’t want their pity-most of them sported worse than his eye half the time. 

The bell dinged as Peter walked in. He headed over to the teenage girl working the counter. “Concealer?” She asked, popping her gum. “Yeah,” Peter said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Get people in here asking for it a lot?” He asked sheepishly. The girl cracked a smile. 

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” She said and led him over to the cosmetics section.

In five minutes, Peter had found the  _ perfect _ concealer for his complexion, according to the girl. He took the bag, thanked her, and headed out onto the street.

**whats ur address? im omw to queens**

Peter sighed, relieved at the text. He sent his address, and Wade texted him back instantly with an  **omw** again. He walked the block to his apartment and sat on the stoop, waiting for Wade.

  
  
  


Wade veered left on his motorcycle when he saw Peter’s text. Within minutes, and after giving whiplash to several pedestrians, he squealed to a halt in front of Peter. He was sitting, huddled and defeated, on the stoop of his run-down apartment building. 

[We need to end that motherfucker. Tonight! Look what he did to Peter!]

{The shithead can wait. Peter’s devastated! We gotta help him.}

Wade ignored the boxes and sat down next to Peter, careful not to touch him. 

Peter leaned in, and Wade froze, then relaxed, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “He did that?” Wade asked softly, referring to Peter’s black eye. Peter nodded, sniffling. “God, I’m a mess,” Peter said, chuckling weakly. 

“No, you’re not. You just have an ass of a boyfriend,” Wade said, trying to comfort Peter.

{Yeah… An ass we’re gonna kill tonight.}

[Dude, we  _ just _ went over this! Not  _ yet _ .]

Wade rubbed Peter’s arm, craving the contact. “You gotta stop seeing him, Peter. He’s hurting you,” Wade said softly, not wanting to upset Peter.

[No, what we  _ gotta _ do is kill the motherfucker for hurting Peter!]

Peter sniffed again, then nodded. “I know. I’m just scared. He-he’s so strong, and put together, and, and, what if he doesn’t wanna break up?” Peter asked, terror evident in his voice.

“Then I’ll take care of him,” Wade said gently. Peter laughed weakly but scooted closer to Wade. 

{Yeah… By murde-}

The voices went quiet when Peter put his head on Wade’s chest. Wade looked down, stunned, at Peter. 

They sat in silence, the voices gone-for the moment. That is until a sleek limo pulled up in front of them, and Harry got out, seething. Peter sat up, stiffening, clenching Wade’s hand tightly. Wade glared up at the punk, barely restraining himself. 

“What the fuck are you doing with him, Peter! I thought I told you to stay away from him!” Harry growled, fists clenched.

“How did you even know he was here?” Peter asked, voice going from weak to angry. Harry stared at him, dumbfounded. “How dumb are you, Peter!? I put a mirror on your phone. And I’m glad I did! The moment we have a little tiff, you run back to Scarface!” Harry’s voice was rising steadily, building in anger and intensity. 

Peter stood up, quivering with anger. Wade watched with awe. 

{He looks sexy as  _ fuck _ -}

[not now, White!]

“A little tiff, Harry? You gave me a black eye. You’ve been fucking with my mind for months! I’m done, Hare. We’re over. I don’t ever want to see you again.”  
Peter’s voice was steely cold, a stark contrast to Harry’s loud anger. Harry stepped back, stricken. “You don’t get to break up with me! You _owe_ me! You _need_ me!” Harry shouted, almost desperate. 

“No, I don’t,” Peter said calmly, hiding his pain extraordinarily well, and turned to Wade. “Let’s get out of here,” He said, giving Wade a hand. “Tacos?”

{He’s the one.}

[We still gotta kill the pu-]

Wade took Peter’s hand and stood up, not letting go. He glared at Harry, but at a tug from Peter, he headed off in a random direction. After a block or two, Wade let go of Peter’s hand, trying to conceal the shake in it.

“Where are we going?” Peter asked suddenly, looking at Wade. “Fuck if I know. If we keep walking, we’ll find tacos eventually,” Wade said, shrugging. They walked for three more blocks, Peter still almost running, fear and pain painted across his face.

“Hey, Pete, stop a sec,” Wade said, getting seriously worried about the state Peter was in. “Let’s talk about this for a second.”  
Peter stopped, shoulders sagging. He was pale, and small, and defeated. All the strength he channeled during his volatile breakup seemed to have long deserted him. 

“What am I gonna do, Wade? I love him so much. He’ll never take me back after this,” Peter said, sitting down on someone’s stoop, voice breaking.

[He can’t take you back if he’s dead!]

{ _ comfort _ him, Wade!}

Wade sat down next to him, flicking a cigarette butt out of the way. Peter laid his head on Wade’s shoulder, and the buzzing business in his head faded again. Suddenly, he knew what to say. 

“Harry is an ass, Petey. He’s an abusive ass and you can’t go back to him. It’ll only get worse, okay? My dad hit my mom, a lot, and she always stayed. I wish to god she would’ve left, even if it meant leaving me. He killed her, Petey. And it started with a slap in a heated argument. You can’t let him control you, Petey. You can’t let anyone control you. And he won’t stop hurting you.”

Wade didn’t know where the words came from. They just sort of spilled out of him, every word lightening the weight on his chest by a fraction of a fraction. At the end of his speech, he looked down to see tears rolling down Peter’s face. 

“Baby boy, don’t cry,” Wade said anxiously, and Peter chuckled weakly, wiping the tears away. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” Peter said, eyes still watery. Wade traced Peter’s dark purple eye with a rough thumb, anger bubbling up in him to be replaced quickly with love and fear for Peter. Wade didn’t know what was happening to him; the voices were silent, sitting in the dusty corners of his mind, entranced with Peter and his touch. Wade’s unquenchable anger, his desire for vengeance, his rage, they all melted into immense affection for the kind, loving, innocent kid next to him. 

“No, you’re not, Petey. But you will be. And that’s what matters.”


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here's chapter nine. Thanks for all the kudos and comments! Keep 'em coming :). TW for mention of rape, but it's mostly fluff. Agh! This fic is getting really long. I might have to go back and cut some stuff in the future chapters I've already written. Thanks!

Deadpool stood outside Carlson’s front door in the suburbs, reminiscing on the amazing afternoon he’d had. Two days after Peter and Harry broke up, he met up with Peter again. They walked around, eating tacos until Peter had to go to work. Wade even put the concealer on Peter’s fastly fading black eye, dabbing it tenderly. He wanted to do Peter up with a full face of drag queen makeup, but Peter said that he didn’t think his boss would approve. So Wade just covered his eye and drove Peter over to the restaurant on his motorcycle. 

[Get over yourself, you fugly sap. It’s go time.]

{Yeah! Be a fucking professional! Then jack off to Pe-}

Wade cleared his throat, then opened the door he had just lockpicked. He walked into the darkness, knowing no-one would be awake in the suburbs at four am. 

However, someone was. Spider-Man flipped on a lamp, sitting on the couch with his hands steepled. “Deadpool! You’re early! Did you bring the deviled eggs? Martha  _ loves _ them!” He said in a falsely cheery voice tinged with… something painful. What was wrong with Spider-Man? He sounded really raw.

“Why are you always here?!” Deadpool groaned, pouting. “Dude, you have a super easy schedule to figure out! It’s like clockwork,” Spider-Man said, before standing up and stretching. “Kid, get outta the way. This guy is gonna get what he deserves!” Deadpool growled, fists clenched.

“Nobody deserves to be brutally murdered!” Spider-Man shot back, suddenly angry. Deadpool growled, pulling out one of his katanas. “Get out of the way, kid. I don’t wanna hurt you,” He said, voice low.

[I do! Let’s just chop his head off!]

“No-you know he wouldn’t like that. He talks about Spidey  _ all _ the time.” Wade said, and Peter’s face flashed across his mind. Spider-Man gave him a questioning glance, but Deadpool ignored it.

[He doesn’t have to know… ]

{No-Wade’s right. We can’t disappoint Petey.}

“He does. He raped Angelica Davis. Him and the other three I took out. He deserves to die!” Deadpool said, keeping his voice low-hopefully Carlson hadn’t woken up yet. 

“That’s not your decision, Deadpool! Look around! We can get him in jail.” Spider-Man said, almost desperately. All of the times Deadpool fought him he was light-hearted, joking. Now, it was like something in him was broken. Something like what was broken in Peter… 

Deadpool stopped. Peter would want Carlson to face the courts, to go to jail and rot there. Peter wouldn’t want him to die so brutally. 

[He won’t spend two years in jail.]

{He won’t even be found guilty.}

Wade ignored the boxes and sheathed his katana. “Fine. But if he walks-” Deadpool began, but Spider-Man interrupted him. 

“Good! Carlson just called the cops, so we’ve got  _ about _ three minutes. Let’s go!” Spider-Man said cheerfully. Deadpool thought he was going to get whiplash from how quickly Spider-Man’s mood changed. He stalked up to Spider-Man, going to pass him, but the shorter man put a hand on his chest to stop him. “Promise you won’t kill him,” he said softly, looking up at Deadpool. “Fine. I promise,” Deadpool muttered, and Spider-Man let him go, following him into Carlson’s bedroom. He was hiding under the bed, whimpering quietly. 

“Get up, coward,” Deadpool growled, wrenching the man up. Spider-Man webbed him to his armchair, and pulled out his phone, starting a recording. 

“What would you like to say, Carlson?” Deadpool asked in an old-timey newscaster voice. 

“I didn’t d-do anything! I’m innocent, p-please!”

Deadpool pulled his fist back, voices egging him on. “Which finger first!?” He growled, pulling out a pair of pliers from his utility belt. 

“Deadpool,” Spider-Man said warningly. Deadpool stopped, lowering his hand. “One more chance,” he growled, towering over Carlson. “Tell them what you did to Angelica.”

“Oh my god! Fine! We-we f-f-f-fucked her!” Carlson wailed, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Angelica Davis! We did it-we called her to a meeting about a scholarship-it was fake, it was all fake. Then we, we did it. We ra-raped her. Me and Everton and Earl and Rosen. I’m so sorry, please!” He sobbed, pleading for his life, head falling onto his chest.

Police sirens drew nearer. Spider-Man cut the tape and bent down to scribble out a note. Deadpool leaned into Carlson.

[slit his throat now]

{We can’t-we promised,}

Deadpool growled, regretting his hasty promise. 

The mercenary knelt in front of Carlson, still seeming to loom over him. “The video’s probably gonna fall through. But you’re gonna confess. You’re gonna tell them exactly what you did and you’re gonna make sure it lines up with Davis’s truthful account. Because if you don’t, I’m gonna find you, and I’m gonna fuck. You. up. And if you tell them I threatened you, I’m gonna feed you your own dick. Got it?” Deadpool whispered, voice dark. Carlson whimpered and nodded. “Good boy,” Deadpool whispered, kissing Carlson on the cheek ominously.

Carlson choked on a sob, nodding frantically. “Deadpool!” Spider-Man called, and Deadpool straightened. He patted Carlson’s cheek roughly and followed Spider-Man out of the back window. They circled around the police knocking down Carlson’s door and headed back to the city.

“Spidey, that was fantastic! I feel so good! And pure! Ohh! Let’s go get tacos! Keep this party rollin!” Deadpool cried, gasping in excitement, the cool autumn air shaking off his dark anger. Spider-Man rolled his eyes, but let Deadpool drag him up to a taco truck.

[Look at Spidey-he’s so cute!]

{And that  _ ass _ , damn!}

  
  


Spider-Man grinned at Deadpool, who had rolled his mask just past his mouth, which he was now stuffing with tacos. Peter had never seen someone eat that many tacos that quickly. That is, except Wade. 

“I’m really impressed with you, Deadpool,” Spider-Man said, in between tacos. “We should work together more,” He blurted, then mentally kicked himself. Why would he want to work with Deadpool? He was a loose cannon, and probably insane. He disappeared for months before showing up in the city, sometimes just to taunt Spider-Man. But his actions tonight proved he could be a good person. Maybe Peter was just feeling soft because of how sweet Wade was earlier. Either way, he had offered, and there was no backing out now.

Deadpool gasped, bringing his hands up to his cheeks. He looked like a goofy version of that  _ Scream _ guy. “Spidey, I would be honored!” Deadpool cried, throwing his arms around the hero’s shoulders.

“All right, all right,” Spider-Man said patiently. “Don’t push it, Deadpool.”

Deadpool gasped again. “We should have  _ code names _ !” He squealed. “Deadpool, we already  _ have _ code names. You think my parents actually named me Spider-Man or something?” Spider-Man asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah…” Deadpool said, deflating. Spider-Man sighed. He couldn’t believe he was going to give in to this whim.

“Maybe we can have… Personal code names,” Spider-Man said, and Deadpool sat up, grinning. “Great! I’ll be the Pool, and you’ll be, Spidey!” He said, clapping his hands in excitement.

“So… You just made nicknames out of our actual code names?” Spider-Man asked, mirth on his voice. Deadpool was a piece of work, but he was pretty fun. “Well… Maybe. But you can only call me The Pool from now on!” Deadpool-The Pool-said, really excited now.

“Uh, no. I can call you the Red Pool?” Spider-Man suggested, and Deadpool wrinkled his nose. “That sounds like a poorly veiled euphemism for a period,” He said, and Spider-Man threw back his head and laughed. 

“It does!” he said, grinning. His heart was happy being around Deadpool like this. “Okay okay okay. What about…  Pooler? Nah… DP? Or, how about just Pool?” Spider-Man mused.

Deadpool scoffed. “So my idea in the first place?” He asked sarcastically. Spider-Man pointed a taco at Deadpool. “Can it, Pool!” He said sternly.

“I like it!” Deadpool roared, acting like a Viking chief trying ice cream for the first time. Spider-Man laughed again. “Okay, okay. What about me?” Spider-Man asked, still chuckling.

“Spidey!” Deadpool said instantly, then took another big bite of his taco. Spider-Man smiled. “You’ve been calling me that for ages,” He said. 

“Yeah. It’s a classic!” Deadpool said around a mouthful of a fish taco. Spider-Man smiled. They spent the night nicknaming other heroes, Spider-Man’s favorite being Captain America: Ultimate Frisbee. He hung out with Deadpool until dawn, when he told him he had to go to work. It wasn’t a lie-he had to go to lab. That was  _ not  _ easy. 

  
  
  


Peter groaned, head buried in his arms. He hadn’t meant to spend all night with Deadpool. He looked up, checking on his experiment.

His heart jumped. The flames should  _ not _ be purple. The next thing would be a big-

 

_ BOOM _

 

Peter was blown off his chair onto the ground. There were feet running around Peter’s head and someone-probably the TA-yelling for a fire extinguisher.

“No-don’t need-fire goes-” Peter tried to say, but one of his classmates hushed him, helping Peter to his feet. “Dude, what was that?” The guy said, sounding mildly impressed. “Err- I forgot to turn the heat down,” Peter replied, rubbing his eyes.

“I should think so! That was dangerous, Parker. Someone could’ve died!” The TA said, her brows drawn so closely together they looked like one carefully manicured hedge. 

“Dude, your eyebrows are  _ gone _ ,” the same guy said, grinning. Peter recognized him: Don Roberto, a chem major with an affinity of blowing stuff up.

“Go home, Parker. Come back next class with an iota of common sense, genius,” The TA said again, and Peter nodded his head, grabbing his bag. 

“Sorry,” He muttered, head down. The TA just rolled her eyes and patted his shoulder. “You’re smart, Parker. Go get some sleep, for Christ’s sake.”

Peter nodded. She wasn’t wrong; he hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours. But as he headed home, he got out his phone and texted Wade.

**got out of lab early bc i blew up my eyebrows. wanna hang out at my apartment?**

Peter scowled at his message. He felt like a teenage girl but sent it anyway. Wade replied almost instantly, causing Peter to smile widely. 

**a chance to see u eyebrowless? im in. b there in 10**

Peter dropped his skateboard and started off, but he knew he needed to grab a cab. Sighing, he kicked his skateboard up and put his arm out. In moments, a cab screeched to a stop next to him.

Peter climbed in, giving the cabbie his address. He calculated the route and fee in his head, and groaned softly. He spent the ride in silence, contemplating his everlasting poorness.

Wade was standing outside when the cabbie pulled up. The cabbie rolled his window down, and Wade stuck his head in to talk to him. Peter stared, and the two exchanged a high five before the cabbie turned back to Peter.

“Ride’s free. Have a good one!” He said, and Wade opened Peter’s door. Peter got out, gaping, and watched the cab drive away.

“What was that?” He asked Wade, who was smiling beneath his hood. “Me and him go way back. Helped him out of a sticky situation a while back. What a coincidence!” Wade grinned, offering Peter his arm.

Peter took it, smiling up at Wade. “How many people owe you favors here?” He asked, still dumbfounded. Wade shrugged as they walked up the steps. “I wouldn’t say people owe me favors, per se. Sometimes I just help people out, and sometimes they remember. I gotta say, favors sounds like a politically dicey term. You gonna grow those eyebrows back, Petey?” Wade asked conversationally.

“Yeah, here-” Peter asked, heading for the elevator. Wade stiffened, and Peter caught on. “Stairs?” He asked quietly, not prying as to why Wade didn’t like elevators. Wade shrugged, then nodded nonchalantly. They climbed the sticky, hot stairs by twos, laughing and racing.

Out of breath, Peter stuck his key into the lock, wrenching it to the right and wiggling it aggressively. He smiled sheepishly up at Wade. “It’s finicky,” He said, just as the lock clicked and the door flew open. 

Peter was relieved to say he didn’t fall onto the floor. He looked around his tiny, dingy apartment, and shame welled in his heart. “Er-it’s not much, but it’s home… You know, college?” Peter said weakly, afraid Wade wouldn’t like it. Who was he kidding? No-one would like it-it was a shithole. Certainly not a rich security agent like Wade. 

But Wade grinned, taking in the tiny room. “Awesome!” He said, then flopped onto the futon. “You look dead tired. Stayed up all night studying?” He asked, grinning at Peter, who was still standing in the doorway, holding his key. 

“Er, yeah. Wanna just… Watch TV?” Peter asked, and Wade nodded vigorously. “How do you feel about… Golden Girls?” Wade asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Peter shrugged and dropped down next to him. “Never seen it,” he said apathetically.

Wade gasped. “Insane, I know!” He mumbled, then looked up at Peter. “Well, we have to remedy this!” Peter laughed before falling into a tired silence, letting Wade mess around with his TV.

When Wade got it set up the way he wanted it, he started the show. Peter barely got through the opening credits before falling asleep on Wade’s shoulder, dreaming of swinging through the city and landing in front of Wade, and kissing him, hard. 


	10. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is the tenth chapter. It's a long one! Hope you like it. No TWs in this one. As always, please r&r!

 

Wade thought it was probably the first time in his life that he couldn’t concentrate on Bea Arthur. It was oddly silent in his head, the voices quietly absorbed with Peter’s touch. Wade could feel his head on his shoulder, every individual hair and where it was. Wade could feel Peter’s arm pressed flush against his, he could feel Peter’s gentle, even breath on his chest. In, out. In, out. 

Wade didn’t know how long he sat there, just that it was nighttime when Peter nudged him awake.

Wait, Wade had been sleeping? The last time he slept was… Years ago. Any time he felt like blacking out, he found some insane way to kill himself again. But here he was, with Peter… Waking him up?

“Hey,” Wade said, blinking down at Peter, who was smiling up at him. “I fell asleep,” Peter stated, and Wade laughed. “Really? I’ve been up the whole time and I didn’t notice anything,”

Peter smiled and snuggled into Wade’s chest. Wade froze, not wanting to ruin the perfect moment.

“You okay?” Peter asked, voice all innocent and kind. “Yeah,” Wade said, and for the first time in a while, he meant it. He stared down at Peter for a few seconds, Peter staring back.

Wade sat up straighter. He wasn’t going to do this-not to Peter. Peter, who was young and full of hope and who  _ just _ got out of a terrible relationship. Wade didn’t want to ruin the world for Peter. The kid had been in what, two relationships? He couldn’t turn Pete into someone like him-broken, alone in the world. 

[We’re already too close to him. We’ve already hurt him-even if we haven’t done anything  _ wrong _ yet.]

{We’re gonna hurt him. He’s too good for us. Get us out of here, Wade!}

Wade stiffened and went to stand up, but Peter’s hand on Wade’s leg stopped him. “Don’t go,” Peter whispered, face hidden in Wade’s chest still. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Peter,” Wade said softly, heart physically  _ hurting _ . “You won’t,” Peter said, still not looking up at him.

“Peter, I’m old, and bro-” Wade began, but Peter lurched up and pressed his lips to Wade’s.

Wade was stunned. His mind went blank, and all he could feel were Peter’s lips on his. It was like he was on fire, and Peter was a glass of cool water. No-it was like Pete held the cure to all of Wade’s ailments, and that every millisecond-every nanosecond-Peter’s lips were on his, Wade was being cured a thousand times over. He could feel every scar, normally so painful and hot, turn soft and cool. He could feel his mind healing over and over again, returning him to the man he used to be. 

But it turned sour. Wade opened his eyes and saw a hurt, lost college kid trying to forget his pain and anger. Wade pulled away and stood up, breathing heavily. Peter looked up at him, pink lips still parted and face flushed. 

“No,” Wade whispered, even though every part of him was screaming  _ yes _ . “I’m not- I don’t- Peter, no,” Wade said, still quiet.

Tears were welling in Peter’s eyes. Wade felt his body burning from acid, acid spread all over him, acid he was submerged in. He choked on it, gulping down gallons of burning fluid, burning his stomach and flooding his interior organs, killing him.

“You can’t use me like this, Peter. I care about you- a lot. I’m falling for you, and you just got out of a shitty relationship. I’m not a rebound, or, or an experiment or something. You gotta-you gotta figure it out or something,” Wade said, voice trembling. He turned abruptly on his heel and left without another word. 

[kill ourselves?]

{kill someone else?}

Wade did neither. He walked to Columbia and climbed the Butler Library. He sat on the rooftop and watched the sunrise, thinking about the nights he and Peter had spent up here.

_ Peter laughed, watching Wade throw a pork rind into his mouth. “How do you do that?” He asked, mirth still tangible in his voice. _

_ Wade grinned widely. “You watch it!” He said simply. “Here, you try,” he said, holding up a pork rind. Peter tilted his head back, mouth open. “One… Two… Three!” Wade called and he threw the pork rind. _

_ It was way off base, but Peter dived for it, falling into Wade’s lap. They laughed, and Peter smiled up at Wade, pork rind between his teeth.  _

_ “Hey!” Wade cried, excited at the marvelous catch. Peter laughed and sat up, popping the pork rind into his mouth…  _

_ Wade had gotten there early that night, and surprised Peter. He jumped when Wade snuck up behind him, before Wade had the chance to yell “BOO!” in his ears. He swatted at Wade, angling his arm over his shoulder to try and get at Wade’s head. Wade chuckled, and sat himself down next to Peter. _

_ “What’re you reading?” Wade asked, nodding to the large book in Peter’s lap. Peter looked down, almost surprised to see the massive hardback book sitting in front of him. _

_ “Oh! It’s  _ Great Expectations _. I got it at the Goodwill, and it’s got  _ A Tale of Two Cities _ and  _ Oliver Twist  _ in it too, which is why it’s so big. And it was only seven bucks! What a steal, right?” Peter said, getting excited at just the thought of his great deal. _

_ Wade chuckled, pulling the book out of Peter’s lap and going to fold down the corner of the page. Peter let out a gasp, however, and snatched the book back, smoothing out the slightly bent corner.  _

_ “How could you do that, Wade! This book is  _ precious _. We can’t tarnish it with dog-ears!” Peter said in exaggerated horror.  _

_ Wade shrugged. “I thought books were supposed to be read and loved, not kept in pristine condition until they disintegrate from age. All my books are marked up and dog-eared. _

_Peter looked faintly nauseous. Wade grinned weakly, taking the book back gingerly. He searched his pockets for a bookmark, and pulled out an unopened bandaid. That would have to do. He saved Peter’s spot, then opened the book to_ A Tale of Two Cities _._ _  
__“You read this one yet? It’s my favorite Dickens novel. Love and hate, peace and war, and the occasional beheading! It’s the quintessential French Revolution novel,” Wade said, fingering the cover page._

_ Peter looked impressed, staring at Wade with something like admiration in his eyes. “You’ve read Dickens?” He asked, trying not to come across as judgemental or disbelieving.  _

_ “Baby boy, I may look stupid, but I’ve had a lot of free time in which to exercise my mind,” Wade said, avoiding the real reason he read so much; it kept the voices quiet. _

_ Peter smiled broadly. “Read it to me, then,” He said, leaning back on the roof.  _

_ Wade stared at him for a second, then looked back to the book. “Want me to do voices?” He asked, looking down at Peter. _

_ “Of course!” Peter responded, smiling up at him, his hair tousled. Wade grinned widely.  _

_ “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness…”  _

 

_ Peter was watching the city, hair blowing softly in the wind. Wade walked up behind him, whistling a wavering tune he was making up on the spot. Peter turned and smiled up at him. Wade’s heart warmed, and he sat down next to him. “What’s on your mind, baby boy?” He asked, bumping Peter’s shoulder with his own.  _

_ Peter turned back to the city lights, still smiling, but sadly now.. “I got a B in my chem lab,” he said, head hanging slightly. “What?! Petey, that’s  _ awesome _!” Wade said, a feeling of pride welling in his chest. _

_ “It’s not awesome. I should’ve gotten an A. I  _ could’ve _ gotten an A,” Peter said, disappointed. Wade turned and looked at him, annoyed. “Petey, I’ve never gotten an A in my  _ life _ , okay! I’d be lucky to scrape a B.” Peter snorted, a mirthless laugh. Wade bumped his shoulder again. _

_ “Listen, Petey. You gotta let yourself be human. You’re amazing, and probably smarter than Einstein, but you’re only human. You’re not always gonna be the best, and that’s okay,” Wade said, taking an abrupt turn into sincerity. _

_ Peter smiled up at Wade. “Thanks,” He whispered.  _

 

[Why can’t we kill someone?!] Yellow groaned loudly, ousting Wade from his reverie. 

{We promised Spidey.}

[Yeah, for the  _ night _ . We can do it now!]

“No,” Wade croaked. “We’re not gonna hurt anyone tonight. We still want to work with Spidey, right? This is how we do it. This is how we become better. For Peter,” Wade ended his proclamation in a murmur. 

  
  
  


Peter groaned when his phone rang. He picked it up, shaking himself.

“Peter? Where are you, honey? You’re fifteen minutes late!” Aunt May asked, her voice edged in worry. “Oh, man! I fell asleep. I’ll be there in five minutes. I’m so sorry!” Peter said, standing up too quickly and falling over with a dull thump. 

“Oh, Peter. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart,” Aunt May said, and Peter smiled. She always understood how crazy Peter’s life was. Peter scrambled up and pulled his shoes on, grabbing his keys and leaving without a second look. He ran down the streets, ignoring the occasional tourist who stared. People who lived in Queens were never phased. 

In six minutes, Peter skidded to a stop, breathless, in front of Diangelos. The owner of the bodega was standing on the street, smoking a cigarette. “Peter! You’re late, kid. You gotta report card for me?” Mario asked, smiling around the Marlboro Special Blend dangling from his lips. Mario had a deal with all the kids in the neighborhood; for every A, you got a cookie. For every B, a stick of gum. If you got all A’s, Mario would make a meatball sub for you, a privilege coveted and adored by all. He always had a days work for someone in need of pocket change or a warm meal, and one of his three girls was always puttering around the store, ready to help. He was an institution; his whole family was. Before Mario took over the store, his father ran it, offering the same deal he did. Before him, Mario’s grandfather, and before  _ him _ , his great-grandfather, who had founded the store. People around their neighborhood loved Mario and his family; they made sure he would never have to sell or close. 

Peter sighed heavily, looking up at Mario, who had his hand outstretched. “I’m too old for you to be doing this,” Peter said. Mario just looked at him, and Peter reluctantly pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Mario. He took it with a triumphant smile and waved Peter inside.

Aunt May was sitting in one of the narrow booths crammed into the left hand side of the store. Peter headed over to her, smiling. “Peter, what’s wrong?” Aunt May asked, rising to wrap him in a hug. Peter smiled, sinking into the hug. “I messed up, Aunt May,” He said before sliding into the seat opposite her.

“Oh, honey. What happened?” Aunt May asked, taking Peter’s hand. She was like Peter’s second mother; she had been there when his parents died, when Uncle Ben died, when Peter started high school, when Peter told her he was Spider-Man, when he got into Columbia, and when he broke up with Harry. She was a constant in Peter’s fast-paced, insane life. 

Peter groaned, and told her about Wade. She knew about their rooftop meetings, and how he stood up to Harry, and she had told Peter openly that Wade was a good person, someone he should befriend better. 

 

“Peter, he was right. You need to get yourself straightened out. I love you, but you’re kind of a mess, honey,” Aunt May said, remarkably frank. Peter laughed shortly, humorlessly. “You’re right, as always. What would I do without you, Aunt May?” Peter asked, smiling.

“Oh, crash and burn,” Aunt May said lightly, smiling. Peter laughed, staring down at the plate of fries Mario had just placed in front of him. Their sporadic lunches were always the best parts of his day, and any chance he got to have a home cooked meal at her apartment, he took it.

“So, when are you going to move, Aunt May?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow. Aunt May sighed. This had been a recurring argument between them; Aunt May wanted to stay in the neighborhood, close to the hospital and her friends. Peter wanted her to move to the suburbs, and at least a safer, easier neighborhood. They were at an impasse, and Peter brought it up every time he saw his Aunt. 

“Honey, I’m not going to move. I love our neighborhood!” Aunt May said, eating a fry. Peter sighed, taking a fry in defeat. “Aunt May, it’s safer, and better for you. And you can afford it now. Why won’t you go?” He asked, tired of the continuing argument.

Aunt May sighed, then folded her hands. Peter sat up, knowing the gesture meant something big was coming up. 

“Peter, in all the years that I have been a nurse, I have seen many people die. Some of these people were parents, or grandparents, or were taking care of children without permanent homes. I have spent years worrying about what will happen to the children that they leave behind,” Aunt May began, looking Peter directly in his eyes. 

“Aunt May, what’s going on?” Peter asked, nervous now. “I want to foster kids, Peter,” Aunt May said. “I feel like it’s my calling. And Peter, I want you to be on board. You’re like a son to me, and if you aren’t comfortable with this, I won’t do it. But I could help  _ so _ many kids. And I’m not trying to replace you Peter, I would never do that. But I have a spare bedroom, and I want to help people,” Aunt May finished in a rush, nervously looking at Peter.

“Aunt May,” Peter said, taking her hand. “I think this is a  _ great _ idea. You would be an amazing foster mom! Look at how well I turned out,” He joked, and Aunt May broke out in a huge grin. 

“Oh honey!” Aunt May exclaimed, smiling brightly. “I’m so happy! Oh, I just can’t wait,” she said, smile wide. Peter smiled, happy to see his aunt so excited. They sat at the bodega for another hour, talking about their lives.

Peter walked home, elated. He felt like he had a solution to all of life’s problems, and that in a few weeks, everything would be perfect. When he got home, he went straight to his futon, and the lingering smell of Wade brought him out of his reverie.

Guilt sunk into Peter’s stomach. “I’m an idiot,” he said to no one. He curled up on his futon and opened his phone, staring at Wade’s phone number. He sat like that, debating whether or not to hit the  _ call _ button, until the sun set.

_ Deadpool _ . Peter had told Deadpool to meet him on top of a nearby building at sundown. Peter jumped up, searching his pile of clothes for his costume.

  
  


Deadpool bounced his legs on the side of the building, watching the sun set. He still felt awful about Peter, but Wade couldn’t let himself think about the bright eyed grad student on the job. Mrs. Davis had contacted him earlier that day, when the news of Carlson confessing broke. He pleaded guilty to all charges, and the judge sentenced him to twelve years in prison. Mrs. Davis had sent him a chicken pot pie, lasagna, and a brisket for the men Deadpool murdered, and then a beautiful cake for Carlson. Their deal had been for three home cooked meals, and Wade danced around the room when he opened the cake. 

“Hey Pool,” Spider-Man said from behind Wade. Deadpool spun around, halfway unsheathing his katana out of reflex. 

{Cool it, genius.}

[Yeah-it’s just Spidey. Even  _ we _ don’t.]

Wade listened to his voices this time, letting the katana fall back into place. “Spidey!” He cried, gathering Spider-Man up into a bear hug. He let Deadpool hug him, hanging limply a few inches off the ground.

Deadpool set him down, and Spider-Man brushed his costume down, straightening out his clothes surreptitiously. “What’re we doing tonight, Spidey?” Deadpool asked, not trying to bother his enthusiasm. 

“Patrol,” Spidey said, and he sounded tired, emotionally exhausted. Moreover, he sounded like he had been  _ crying _ . Deadpool tilted his head slightly, observing the hero.

{Ask him!}

[No, that’d be weird!]

{But we want to  _ know _ .}

[True. Ask him, Wade!]

Deadpool didn’t respond to the boxes, instead forcing his ample curiosity down. “Let’s get started, then!” He said, still excited. He had enough zeal for both of them. “I’m ready to get started! Geez, it feels like the boys scouts again. I was never good at that, though. I pulled Dustin’s pants down and stuck a bees nest down ‘em. He deserved it though-I mean, he was a real dipshit. Always getting me to walk into poison ivy.  _ Fuckin’  _ poison ivy. It went septic once, you know. I had to get a steroid shot in my ass. And I swear to you, Spidey, if you can believe it, Kevin Hart gave it to me. I swear on baby Jesus, Kevin  _ fucking _ Hart gave me a steroid shot that day. Now granted, I was tripping pretty hard on some ‘shrooms that Dustin-fuckin’ Dustin-had convinced me were normal. But Kevin Hart  _ definitely  _ stuck a needle in my ass,” Deadpool was rambling, and it seemed to be cheering Spidey up slightly.

[There we go!]

Spider-Man laughed, a laugh that brought a warm feeling to Wade. He wanted him to laugh again, to keep him from thinking about whatever had him crying earlier. 

{A lover, perhaps? We should find out. We could help him out, like we did Doping-}

[Let it  _ be _ , White! Fucking hell you’re nosy.]

Deadpool grinned, stepping to the edge of the building. “Where are we going on patrol?” He asked, looking to Spider-Man for guidance.

“Well, I normally swing around Queens and then Brooklyn. Manhattan’s pretty well managed, what with Luke Cage and Daredevil and some others I’ve heard about… The other neighborhoods I swing by, but I don’t have history with them. I  _ know _ Queen and Brooklyn.” Spider-Man said, and Deadpool saw his calculating thought process. Spidey didn’t know Staten Island or the Bronx, didn’t know where the crime lurked and the people who needed him. He was better off taking care of the people he knew he could help, leaving those boroughs to the newer supers better equipped to handle them. 

“Smart, Spidey. Real smart. Where’re we starting?” Deadpool asked, ready to start running.

{Perhaps we should invest in some roller blades?!}

[No! A hoverboard!]

{Gasp! Fueled with  _ nitrous! _ }

Wade had to admit that ride sounded pretty bitchin. Between him and Weasel, they could rig something up. 

Spidey smiled, the corners of his mask designed mouth lifting with him. “Here,” he said simply, and shot out a web, swinging off. 

Deadpool sighed, pulling out a dull  grappling hook and spinning it. He sent it flying after Spidey’s feet, and latched on. Spider-Man looked down in fear and surprise, but grinned when he saw Deadpool swinging five feet below him.  It was going to be a long night.


	11. XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Here's chapter eleven. TW for some violence. Enjoy, and please r/r!

 

Spider-Man thought he would have minded the two-hundred-something pound man swinging along below him, but it was really just gave him a little lag, and he adjusted quickly. However, Deadpool didn’t seem to know what to do with himself. He swung along below Spider-Man, screaming loudly.

Spider-Man chose a random rooftop to land on. They wouldn’t catch any criminals if Deadpool kept up that racket. 

Deadpool pulled himself up to the rooftop, panting loudly. “That,” He said, still gasping for air, “was  _ terrifying _ ,” Spider-Man smirked, vindictively proud that he managed to freak out Deadpool. 

“We gotta come up with a better way for me to follow you,” Deadpool said, hands on his hips. “Maybe I could wear roller skates and tether myself to you?” He asked, and Spider-Man wasn’t entirely sure if he was serious. 

“Just climb on,” Spider-Man said after a moment of hesitation. Deadpool just stared, nonplussed. “My back! Come on, I’ve done it a million times,” Spider-Man explained, and Deadpool looked shocked, even through his mask. 

“Get on your back? Ride you? Baby I’d love to,” Deadpool joked, and Spider-Man felt heat rising on his cheeks. Suddenly, he couldn’t banish the image of Deadpool on top of him, fucking him into the mattress, that popped into his head.

“Er-yeah-uh, just-we gotta go,” Spider-Man stuttered, and Deadpool picked up on how flustered he was. “Let’s go, baby boy,” Deadpool said, and Spider-Man blushed even harder than he was before. Deadpool climbed onto Spider-Man’s back, holding on tightly. Spider-Man was mildly surprised that he wasn’t trying to grind on him or make inappropriate comments.

The answer to Spider-Man’s speculation appeared when he swung out into the air and Deadpool shrieked and clung  even tighter to Spider-Man’s back. He swung around the city for a few minutes aimlessly, trying to get Deadpool used to the feeling of almost falling. Soon, they were webbing down the street around dusk, looking for miscreants.

“There!” Deadpool whispered, startling Spider-Man out of making his grocery list in his head. He swung to a stop, crouching on a roof and staring down at the men stalking a red-headed woman.

Deadpool dropped off of Spider-Man’s back, causing him to yelp when he grabbed his ankles and swung from them. His squeak caused the two lanky men to look up, their greedy faces quickly paling into fear. 

Deadpool let go of Spider-Man’s ankles and dropped onto the would-be assaulters, letting them break his fall. Spider-Man sighed, following Deadpool to try and make sure he didn’t kill the men. 

When he got down there, Spider-Man had to pull Deadpool off of the men. He was beating down on one, while standing on the hand of the other, slowly grinding it into the cracked pavement. It was dark out, but Spider-Man could still see the vicious fury marring Deadpool’s mask. He put a hand on Deadpool’s shoulder, pulling at him gently. 

It didn’t do a thing. Deadpool probably didn’t even register Spidey’s small hand on the wide expanse of his back. Spider-Man went for plan B, wrenching him off the men and slamming him on the alley wall. 

“Stand down, Deadpool!” Spider-Man growled, barely containing the struggling Deadpool. He  _ knew _ it was a mistake to bring Deadpool along. He was unstable, a loose cannon. More importantly, he couldn’t follow orders. Or even mild suggestions.

After a minute more, Deadpool stopped. His rage seemed to fade, and Spider-Man thought it was safe to let him go. The men were in no shape to escape, laying on the ground, curled around their injuries. Deadpool was still breathing heavily, and despite all his misgivings, Spider-Man trusted him not to freak out again.

“What the hell was that, Deadpool?” Spider-Man asked. He tried to sound angry, but he feared it came across more as weary. Deadpool sighed, hanging his head. “I don’t like shit-headed rapists,” He said, and his voice was oddly raw and vulnerable. Spider-Man’s last inkling of anger faded away. 

“Well, neither do I, but you can’t go around killing people when you’re working with me. Or at all, for that matter. These guys need to face the law. We have to protect everyone, even if they’re shit-heads,” Spider-Man said, and he nodded gruffly.

Spider-Man couldn’t help but feel a certain fondness for the hulking mercenary, who was now tying up their thugs, albeit while grumbling ominously. Spider-Man rifled through their pockets, calling the police with a phone he found. 

“Come on,” Spider-Man said, crouching slightly and preparing for Deadpool to climb on his back. Deadpool just stared, nonplussed. “Patrol’s not over, Pool,” Spidey said, raising a masked eyebrow expectantly.

“You still want me to come with you? But I messed up?” Deadpool asked, his voice weak and unsure. Spider-Man smiled sadly as the realization Deadpool didn’t think he got a second chance hit home. 

“You’re learning,” Spidey said, and jerked his head, indicating Deadpool should climb on. He did, mood changing on a dime as he skipped towards the other hero. 

  
  
  


Deadpool shut his door, leaning against it like a lovestruck highschool girl. The night had been amazing, him and Spider-Man taking down three muggers and two petty robbers staking out a small restaurant. After beating the two men to a pulp, Deadpool tried not to leave any lasting injuries on their perpetrators. At the end of the night, Spider-Man had congratulated him on a job well done, patting his shoulder and telling him to meet him at the same rooftop the night after tomorrow. Deadpool glowed from the praise, his heart expanding at the thought of finally doing something right.

Wade pulled off his mask and suit, dropping them in a pile by the door. He walked around the apartment, pushing in chairs and picking up dishes without realizing it. His science experiments, the three cups of liquor sitting on his window, were dumped into the alley below. 

{Spider-Man is fucking  _ hot _ !} White said, and Wade felt his heart sink again. His elation at working with Spider-Man had fended the boxes off for a little while, but they were back now, as strong as ever. 

[What are we doing with him? We can’t become a hero! Never killing someone again? I can’t imagine it!]

{But Spidey is good. And he wants to give us a chance. And his ass just  _ does not  _ quit!}

Wade listened to the argument his boxes held until, ultimately, White won. Night after tomorrow, he would be at the rooftop, waiting on Spidey. 

[What to do until then?]

{We could go see Pe-}

Wade growled, scratching his hands down his head, grasping for hair that was not there. Of course he had to think of Peter. Sweet, kind, funny, dorky Peter. Peter, who was hurting from his boyfriend’s abuse. Peter, who was working his ass off at his restaurant and Columbia. Peter, who  _ wanted _ him. Actually  _ wanted _ Wade. 

[He wants to use us. He wants us to make him forget his pain. He just wants to use us as a tool, just like everyone else.]

{Who cares? We  _ love _ Peter. Who cares if he’s just using us? Let him.}

Wade growled. No matter what he did, the voices were there, torturing him. He pulled out a knife and went to stab himself when he saw his phone.

Peter was calling. Why was he calling so early? Was he hurt? Was something wrong?

{Answer!}

[Do not answer that damn phone!]

Wade stared at the call, torn, until it finally stopped ringing. After a minute, the phone turned off. Wade sunk to the ground, eyes still on the phone. 

{He cares about us! He called to see if we were okay!}

[NO. He wants to use us. And we won’t let anyone use us. Ever again.]

Wade groaned, falling onto his back in defeat. He wouldn’t let Peter destroy him. He just spent a great day with Spider-Man! Spider-freaking-Man! 

{Yeah. That was pretty epic.}

[See! We don’t  _ need _ Peter! We have Weasel, and Spider-Man, and that one kid we mentored for a week after we accidentally signed up for Big Brother!]

Wade grinned. That kid was fucking  _ weird _ . They’d had a good week until Danny’s social worker found out Wade was legally dead in Canada and legally in prison in the US. They had eaten so many tacos. It was a beautiful time.

{Danny was legit.}

[Where’s he now?]

“At school. He’s going to NYU for engineering. He got a full ride, sponsored by the Dean of the school,” Wade said, spirits lifting a little. 

[Wait, didn’t we threaten that guy once?]

{Dude. You are so dumb. How are we the same person?}

Wade laid back, listening to the boxes bickering. Ordinarily, he would’ve shot himself to shut them up, but he let them argue, reminiscing instead of the night he’d had with Spider-Man. He felt like Cinderella, like the whole weird night had been a dream.

[No, YOU’RE the asshole!]

Wade ignored the boxes. Spider-Man was probably one of the kindest, most selfless people he’d ever met. He’d even let Deadpool stop for some sketchy looking candy sold on a street corner. 

 

_ “But Spidey! It’s my favorite kind of fudge!” Deadpool pleaded, clasping his hands together and crouching so he could look pleadingly up at his heroic counterpart.  _

_ “... Street fudge?” Spider-Man asked, unimpressed, raising his eyebrows. Deadpool nodded vigorously, gesturing helplessly to the man watching them. He seemed unsure of whether to run from the two masked men or videotape the oddly hilarious exchange between them.  _

_ Spider-Man sighed. “Fine,” He said, and Deadpool sprung up, wrapping him in a huge bear hug.  _

_ “I guess we can take a  _ quick _ fudge break. No more than fifteen minutes!” Deadpool squealed and ran over to the fudge vendor. _

_ Deadpool poured over the fudge selection, unable to decide which to get. The boxes were no help, either; white was advocating for getting three of each and yellow was staunchly loyal to the  _ Original™ _ chocolate fudge. _

_ After a few seconds of external debate, Deadpool realized Spider-Man was hovering at his shoulder, on his toes, ready to run. “What do you want, Spidey?” he asked, privately hoping Spider-Man would come up with a satisfactorily delicious choice that would please the boxes. _

_ “You chose one, yet?” He asked instead, still looking like a deer in headlights. Deadpool clapped a hand genially on Spidey’s back, ready to explain the intricacies in choosing fudge. _

_ “Oh my young, innocent friend, who has not had the displeasure and, frankly, devastation of choosing the wrong fudge, you must understand this is an intensely delicate process with a variety of very scientific choices to be made. My padawan, welcome to the world of choosing fudge,” Deadpool intoned gravely, causing Spider-Man to crack a grin.  _

_ {Kid needs to loosen up.} _

_ [Yeah, someone needs to pull that stick out of his ass.] _

_ “I’m your padawan? I’m the one teaching you how to be a hero, DP. “ Spider-Man said, putting his hands on his hips, a grin somewhat ruining the schoolteacher vibe he put on. _

_ “DP? Getting creative, Spidey. And I like to consider this a mutual padawan-ship, kid. You show me how to not unalive people, I show you the many wonders of New York!” Deadpool said, grinning widely and jumping once after he finished to emphasize his point. _

_ Spider-Man rolled his eyes. “I was born here. Can’t say the same of you, Pool. Canadian, right?”  _

_ Deadpool’s heart stopped. How did he know that? The boxes were suddenly frantic, veering off from the debate about fudge to go careening off a cliff of ‘what if’s’.  _

_ “How do you know that?” Deadpool asked, frantic. Spidey stepped forward, sensing something was off. “You told me earlier that you were born in Vancouver,” He said, nonplussed at Deadpool’s urgency. _

_ Deadpool relaxed for a fraction of a second. How could he be so careless? Spilling his origin story to a hero he’d only known personally for a few days? The boxes were furious.  _

_ Spider-Man could still tell Deadpool was off. He turned to the fudge, perusing it  nonchalantly. “What about peanut butter, dark chocolate, and mint?” He asked after a minute. _

_ It was how Spidey so easily moved on from Deadpool’s mood swings that calmed him down. Anyone else Deadpool imagined would get defensive, angry that Deadpool was so guarded and such a loose cannon. But Spidey just moved on, letting Deadpool work through his fear on his own. _

_ The boxes agreed with Spidey, so it was settled. “Sounds fucking amazing, baby boy!” Deadpool said, instantly going to hover over Spider-Man’s shoulder.  _

_ “Uh, 12 dollars,” the vendor said nervously, still in denial that two highly famous, and possibly murderous, heroes were standing in front of him. Spider-Man looked up expectantly at Deadpool, who was looking down at him, waiting. _

_ “Well? Pay the man!” Deadpool said rousingly, poking Spidey in the back a little. He was ripped, and Deadpool had to stuff the sudden exclamations of the boxes down where they wouldn’t spill out of his mouth.  _

_ “What? You’re the one who wanted the fudge in the first place!” Spider-Man objected,  flustered. Deadpool rolled his eyes. “You ordered,” he said impatiently. “And I don’t carry money in my suit. It ruins the lines.” _

_ As an emphasis, he swept his arms from his head to his legs, striking a pose to show off his suit. “You’re telling me that you don’t have  _ any  _ money in your massive tool belt?” Spider-Man asked disbelievingly. _

_ “No, but feel free to check thoroughly, baby boy,” Deadpool said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Spider-Man pulled out a thin wallet, and Deadpool would have sworn that he was blushing under his mask. He gave the vendor some crumpled bills and scooped up the fudge, heading towards the shadows to climb onto a roof…  _

 

Wade sighed. It was a great night. He felt like Cinderella or something. He headed to his bed, leaving his phone on the table, ignoring the voicemail Peter had left.

For the first time since he and Peter had a fight, he didn’t shoot himself to sleep that night. 


	12. XII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm finally posting another chapter! Sorry it's been so long-school has been crazy. Anyways, here you go! TW for some self-hate, suicidal thoughts. Thanks and love!

Wade woke up to the boxes complaining about the bright sun.

{Fuck off, sun!}  
[Yeah, go kill yourself, shithead.]

Wade rolled out of bed; he was up, and the boxes would keep him awake. They always kept him awake. He meandered into the living room, aimless. He had set up a schedule with Spider-Man; they went on patrol every other night. Something about Spidey having to work, or school, or something. Wade hadn’t paid close attention, deciding instead to focus on the fudge. 

He was shocked out of his reverie when his phone rang again. Peter. Of course-who else would be calling him? It was only really Peter. Two weeks since he had stormed out of the kid’s apartment, and he was still calling him. He never left a voicemail, though. And he always called at least once a day. Relentless. 

[Answer it! He could be in trouble!]

{No, he wants to hurt us!}

Wade stared at the phone, a sense of deja vu coming over him at the familiar position. This kid was just relentless. 

[He’s not gonna stop calling until you pick up!]

{Come on, don’t be naive!}

Wade let out a strangled shout of frustration. Why was he so indecisive, so flighty? Peter probably wouldn’t want to be friends much longer, anyways. He was probably trying to tell Wade that he wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

{That doesn’t make sense. He can leave a voicemail for that.}  
[Finally, a grain of sense! He’s trying to make things right. Answer it, goddammit!]

Without White’s rebuttal, Wade jumped into action. He grabbed his phone and turned it on, pressing it to his ear. 

“Wade?” 

Wade’s heart broke. There was his Peter, all kindness and gentleness and positivity. Wade didn’t deserve him, he should have never walked out on him that day, he should have stayed and fallen in love like a normal person would have. 

[Tell him we love him!]

{Tell him to fuck off and not to call us again!}

“Are you okay?” Wade croaked out, trying to hold back tears. This was ridiculous; he had known Peter for what, a month? How was he in love with him already? They hadn’t even been on a real date. Even by Wade standards, this was insane. 

“I-I’m fine, Wade. Will you please meet me somewhere? I wanna talk in person,” Peter said, his voice vulnerable and raw. 

[YES!]

{Why, so he can humiliate us in person?}

[Why can’t you even try to keep a relationship afloat, White? Why are you so fucking dysfunctional? Why are you--]

“Wade?” Peter’s voice interrupted Yellow’s tirade, sending the boxes falling into a deep recess of Wade’s mind. 

“Where?” Wade asked, and he heard a small sigh of relief from Peter. “Central Park?” He asked, and Wade could hear the relieved smile on his lips.

“Okay. When?” Wade asked again, hoping his voice would convey everything he wanted to say to Peter.

“Today? At one?” Peter asked. Wade checked the time. It was eleven. “Okay,” He said again, and Peter let out a shaky laugh.

“Perfect. I’ll see you then, Wade!” 

Wade almost died there. His name on Peter’s lips; it was a name he never thought someone would say with such love and friendliness. He had resolved himself to a life of being an outcast, and here comes Peter, pulling him from the edges of society to stand in daylight with him. Every time Peter said his name, Wade had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

Wade sighed. Somehow, he was going to see Peter in two hours. He had to get ready!

[Uhhh. How? We’re fucking ugly. Not really a way to get nicer looking, here.]

{And how’re we going to get uglier than we are now?}

“You guys got a point. But I gotta do  _ something _ . And no, we don’t have enough time to kill ourselves. Stop suggesting that, guys. Really,” Wade said, walking aimlessly around the apartment. It was a huge mess; various take-out boxes half-filled with food in many different stages of decomposition, clothes were strewn everywhere, disassembled guns laying on many surfaces, bloodstains covering everything, and video games displayed across half of the couch. 

{Oh yeah… We gotta clean up.}

[Why???]

{In case things go well and Petey comes back to the apartment with us!}

[You flipped sides quickly. Weren’t you just saying that we were worthless pieces of shit incapable of love or being loved?]

{Hey, I’m caught up in the moment! Don’t ruin my buzz.}

“Wish we could get buzzed,” Wade said to the boxes, staring around at the catastrophic mess. Where to start?

[Clothes]

{Bloodstains}

Wade debated for a moment before deciding. “Clothes. Clothes are easier.”

  
  
  


Peter stood nervously by a bench. This was where they were supposed to meet, but he was too nervous to sit down. Or maybe it was the copious amounts of caffeine running through his system right now. He had considered the possibility of just hooking up an IV bag of coffee to his arm but quickly dismissed it as impractical. There was also MJ’s idea about a backpack of coffee and a straw, like what bikers wear, but Peter thought it was best  _ not  _ to look like he was getting hammered in Central Park at one. 

Peter checked his watch again. 1:05. He had said one, right? Between school, work, and his nights as Spider-Man with Deadpool, Peter was worried he was going to go through a nervous breakdown. Coffee could only get him so far; eventually, he would have to sleep.

But sleep, Peter couldn’t. His nights were consumed by nervous pacing, an empty heart beating against his ribs. His eye was healed, like Harry had never hurt him. Harry. Peter hated to admit it, but he missed Harry more than he thought would ever be possible. He missed his dumb puns, and his impeccable suits, his wild hair and his soft feet padding around the apartment, singing Disney tunes off-key. He missed how caring and gentle Harry was, how he made love to Peter and whispered how beautiful Peter was, how much he loved him, how much he needed Peter. 

But Peter was never going to see Harry again. It was over; there was not going back to him. Those wonderful, loving years were gone forever. And now Peter was alone, with a broken heart and a life he felt was meaningless. 

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” Wade’s voice rang out from behind Peter, and just like that, Peter’s broken heart was cured. Just the thought of Wade yesterday would have made Peter start sobbing; it had been two weeks since he had seen Wade, and yet here he was, right behind him. 

Peter turned around, unsurprised to find a tear tracing its way down his cheek. Wade’s smile slipped off his face; he rushed over to Pter, but stopped himself before he could take Peter into his arms reassuringly. 

“Wade, I’m so sorry. I’m so stupid, and I shouldn't have tried to kiss you, but I really care about you, and these past couple of weeks without talking to you have been terrible, just please forgive me so we can be friends again,” Peter said, choking on tears. He cursed himself silently; why was he always so emotional?

Wade looked like he was ready to cry, too. He wrapped Peter in a big hug, rocking him as Peter stifled his sobs. There was a reason Peter wanted to meet in a public place; he knew he would be upset and wanted to avoid crying for the strangers around him. But this part of the park was empty, and Peter didn’t have an excuse not to cry. 

“Hey, Petey, it’s okay,” Wade said soothingly, smoothing Peter’s permanently messy hair. After a minute or two, Peter got himself under control and sat down on the bench. Wade sat next to him, hesitantly, as if unsure if he was still wanted there.

“I’m sorry, Wade, you must think I’m an idiot or something. I just told you I loved you! I am  _ such  _ a mess, Wade. But you make sense out of the chaos in my life. If I can’t fall in love with you, I want you as a friend,” Peter said in a rush, as if getting it all out fast would somehow keep Wade from walking off. He stared at the ground, unable to look at Wade’s face. After what seemed like an eternity, Wade finally responded, his rough and scarred hand covering one of Peter’s.

“Don’t be stupid, Petey. You’re probably the best thing that has ever happened to me, you know. And I love you, Peter. God, I love you. I just don’t want you to be stuck with me, Peter. You deserve so much more, so much more than I can give you. I’m broken, Peter. And you’re so young and whole. You need someone like you: young and whole.” 

Wade said all of this like someone was forcing a confession out of him. Peter looked up, stricken. Wade’s mouth was pressed shut, and tears were leaking out of his downcast eyes. Wade loved him. Wade loved him. Wade loved Peter. 

But Wade didn’t want to be with Peter. Why was Peter’s life so fucked up? And why was Wade so fucking noble and self-sacrificing? What was so terrible about Wade that made him unlovable?

“I’m not a kid, Wade.” Peter began heatedly. “I love you, I know that. And you aren’t broken, not to me. I care about you, and I’ve never been happier than when I’m around you. Why can’t you let yourself be human? You hate on yourself constantly, and you act like you’re unworthy of being loved. You know what, Wade? Nobody is unworthy of love. Least of all you. So get off your high horse and kiss me, goddammit.”

Wade stared at Peter for a moment before taking the back of the younger man’s head in his hands and bringing his scarred lips to meet soft ones.

It was like Peter was healed. He hadn’t even realized how broken he was until Wade fixed him so completely. He was feeling more alive than he had ever felt before, like he was skydiving and riding a runaway horse and driving a convertible at two hundred miles per hour at the same time. He felt like he was in the center of a hurricane, a hurricane that was under his complete control, and he was leading it aimlessly through the ocean, whipping up water and wind and clouds into a tempestuous fury. He felt like he was slinging from one edge of the city to the other, going impossibly fast and loving every second of the recklessness that possessed him.

And at the same time, Wade’s kiss felt like home. It felt like walking into his tiny apartment, with books scattered everywhere and the smell of coffee wafting in from his window from the store across the street. It felt like a snow day off of work and school, the entire city shut down in a five-foot blanket of snow, and Peter curling up by his window in a million quilts and opening his favorite book, a steaming cup of cocoa next to him. It felt like a ice cold coke from DiAngelo’s, sitting outside the store on a spring day with his Aunt, watching the city live. 

Wade pulled away from the kiss, eyes dilated and breathing heavily. Peter wanted to climb onto Wade and make love to him right there in the park, but his last spark of sense told him not to act on that impulse. 

“I love you,” Wade croaked, and Peter took his hand. 

“Coffee?” Peter asked after a minute of intense silence. Wade laughed, his hood sliding back so Peter could see his strong features and bright blue eyes. Peter’s heart jumped in his chest, and he stood up, pulling Wade with him. They walked, hand in hand, to the coffee shop; all felt right in the world. It was a beautiful day, Wade’s rough, familiar hand was enveloped in Peter’s, and they were heading for a cup of coffee. 

When they got to the crowded coffee shop, Peter felt Wade start to draw into himself; Peter could almost hear Wade worrying about the people looking at his scars. Peter held onto his-boyfriend’s?-hand even tighter because of it. Wade was amazing, and he had nothing to be ashamed of. 

They stood in line, and Wade kept his head down. Sensing how uncomfortable he still was, Peter bumped his shoulder. “So, tell me, you ever been to Greece?” He asked, looking under the hood into Wade’s bright blue eyes. 

“Have, I? Baby boy, I lived there for six months! I found this  _ amazing _ gyro stand that I was  _ not _ about to carelessly abandon. Eventually, special ops caught on that I had finished my mission in two weeks, and they made me head on back here. I’ve always wanted to go back, though. I can’t find gyros like those here.” 

Within seconds, Wade was back. Peter smiled, still holding his hand loosely, casually. “Well, there’s a greek food festival on Astoria this weekend. Wanna go see if they’ve got gyros that can compare?” He asked, his heart thumping loudly. 

“Baby boy, I am confident that no gyros will come close the ones I had in Greece. But I could go for eating my body’s weight in baklava and spanakopita. Sounds like a plan!” Wade said, looking down into Peter’s soft brown eyes.

Peter smiled, his heart soaring. How could someone to love another person as much as he loved Wade? It didn’t seem possible. Yet, here he was, head over heels, unconditionally in love with Wade Wilson. And how was it so quick? He just dumped Harry. But Peter wasn’t going to think about that now. Wade was here, and somehow, Peter felt whole again. He felt like they were meant for each other. 

“Babe? What do you want?” Wade asked softly, and Peter realized they had gotten to the front of the line. 

“I’ll have a latte with a shot of vanilla, please,” Peter said, smiling. The barista smiled flirtily at him, and Wade ducked his head, obviously ashamed at holding Peter’s hand. Peter felt his heart swell with love for the silly man.

“What do you want, babe?” Peter asked, turning to stare adoringly up at Wade. He smiled, shrugging off his uncomfortableness. 

“I’ll have a black coffee, please,” Wade said, and the smile slid off the barista’s face when she looked under Wade’s hood. Peter gave her a pointed look however, and the smile was back before Wade could have seen it, staring at the tip jar as he was. 

“Of course! That’ll be right out. Can I have your names?” She asked, and Wade looked up at her cheerful tone. She smiled at him, and Peter appreciated how well she hid her shock at Wade’s scars. If only he could realize they weren’t as terrifying as he made them out to be, maybe he would feel a little better about himself. 

“Peter, Wade,” Peter listed off succinctly, and the barista gave him a lingering smile before passing his order off to another waiter. 

Wade led Peter to a nearby table, head bent under his hood. They sat close enough that their shoulders were touching, and Peter smiled up at his… boyfriend? They hadn’t really talked about it, but Peter wasn’t going to ruin this beautiful afternoon with clingy questions about their relationship. 

“Baby boy, what’re you all in your head about?” Wade asked, stirring Peter from his reverie. 

“I’m just happy,” Peter said, leaning forward an placing a soft kiss on Wade’s nose. 

“Blurgh! Watch the PDA, Petey! We’re in public” Wade chastised, leaning back. At the same time, however, Peter felt Wade’s foot slide up Peter’s leg, causing Peter to jump. 

Wade grinned mischievously at Peter’s furious blush. What was he doing? There wasn’t even a tablecloth covering them. “Wade,” Peter said placatingly, widening his eyes. 

Wade just grinned rakishly. His foot slid farther up, then crossed from the outside of Peter’s calf to the inside of his knee, causing Peter to stifle a gasp.

Peter’s heart was beating a million miles a minute. He felt as alive as when he was moonlighting as Spider-Man, except this was Wade playing footsies with him in a coffee shop.

Deciding to fight back, Peter traced his hand softly over Wade’s knee. Wade stiffened, looking down at Peter with surprise and… Lust? Peter grinned at the table, ignoring the fact that his hand was creeping higher and higher up Wade’s thigh.

“Peter,” Wade whispered, his voice low. Finally, Peter looked up at him, proud at how flushed he had made Wade’s face. Peter stared into the older man’s eyes, hand still resting lightly on Wade’s upper thigh.

“Here’s your coffee!” The barista chirped, and Peter jumped a mile high and snatched his hand back into his lap. 

“Th-thanks!” Peter squeaked, and Wade let out a low, rumbling chuckle. The barista smiled at Peter, ignoring Wade, and sashayed back to the cash register. 

“She’s really into you,” Wade observed, his voice clear of emotion. Peter grinned.   
“Yeah, well, I’m really into you,” Peter said, and turned to sip his drink, leaving Wade blinking in mild shock. 

Peter and Wade sat in silence for a while, drinking their respective coffees and simply enjoying each others company. It was a beautiful day, and the coffee shop was crowded with everyone from moody teenagers to hassled soccer moms to cane-bearing veterans. It was beautifully mundane, something that Peter loved to just sit and observe. He liked to watch all these ordinary people live their ordinary lives, feeling privileged just to pass a moment background character in their lives. These were the people he wanted to protect as Spider-Man; the ordinary ones, who weren’t billionaires or geniuses or prodigies. New York had enough of those; Peter wanted to make sure Linda Staffer, HR, could walk home without fear. 

“What are you thinking about?” Wade asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft. Peter jumped slightly, so involved in his own thoughts he had momentarily forgotten that Wade was there with him.

“The people. I like to wonder who they are,” Peter said. “Like, that man over there,” he gestured to a rugged man in a well tailored suit, standing patiently behind a mother toting twins. “He’s all tanned. His hair is a little wild, and he’s just shaved his beard off. I think he was on a long hiking trip, a sabbatical, before returning to a really stressful corporate job. Vice president maybe, or head of a tech wing.”

Wade smiled, evidently interested in Peter’s game. “Nah. I think he’s a hoity-toity model or something. Had an internet scandal, a string of lady-friends, and then took off on a luxury backpacking trip across eastern Europe. The backpack, along with his ten suitcases, were carried by some poor sap who wants to make it big in modeling one day!” 

Wade painted a vivid picture, impressing upon Peter the idea of a pampered hottie who had no idea what responsibility meant. Peter smiled, and looked at the guy again. 

“Yeah, your idea is better. What about us? What would you think if you saw us?” Peter asked, trying to get Wade to describe ‘what are we’ to him. 

“A hot twink and a genetic experiment,” Wade said right off the bat, not making eye contact with Peter. Peter sighed, looking up at the ‘genetic experiment’. Looks like he would have to quantify their relationship.

“No. I think we look like two people in love with each other,” Peter said softly, and Wade looked back at him. Peter smiled, and winked at Wade cheekily.   
“That’s a little closer,” Wade said, now ready to play Peter’s game. “But I think we look more like a couple of boyfriends totallllly ready to bang,” Wade said, and Peter laughed loudly enough to attract a couple glares from senior citizens. 

Wade grinned, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Peter’s. Peter’s heart soared, the utter happiness in him magnified by the beautiful day and Wade’s warm lips on his. The kiss seemed to last an eternity, and Wade pulled away entirely too soon. 

Peter smiled goofily at Wade, unable to stifle his grin. “I love you, Petey,” he said, and Peter’s smile got impossibly wider.   
“I love you too,” Peter said, and Wade’s face finally split into a smile. 

“Let’s get outta here,” Wade said suddenly, grabbing Peter’s hand. Peter followed him out of the door, swiping his coffee before Wade took off. 

They walked down the street aimlessly, Peter pointing out the oddities of New York, Wade vividly describing their character. After an hour, they found themselves outside of Peter’s apartment. 

“Come in?” Peter asked, suddenly shy. Wade smiled wolfishly. 

“If you want me to,” He said, and Peter nodded vigorously. 

“Come on,” Peter grabbed Wade’s hand, pulling him close. He could feel the heat between them, and in that moment, couldn’t think of any stipulations at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you all think? I wanted to drag out Wade and Peter getting together for a little longer, but I couldn't stand waiting! Plus, this fic has to end eventually! Please tell me what you think! I'll update sooner next time :)


	13. XIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm back to posting (somewhat) regularly. Anyways, here's chapter 13! I'm not quite sure where I'm gonna go from here... So either this will end in a few chapters, or I'll find some plot device to keep us rolling! Either way, thank you guys so much for reading. =)

Wade pushed Peter up against the door, trailing kisses down the gasping boy’s neck. They were still in the hallway, and Peter held his keys loosely in his hands. He gasped loudly when Wade bit down on his collarbone, and Wade smiled at the reaction he was getting from Peter. It burned him up, how much he loved Peter. It was like a wildfire, out of control and raging fast and hard. But at the same time, he loved Peter slow and steady, knowing he would love the man for a long time, maybe forever. He wanted to hear Peter scream his name, toes curling and hands grasping for traction, Wade going fast and hard and letting Peter feel the heat of his passion. But he also wanted to lay Peter down on his bed and slowly make love to him, knowing the rest of their lives would be filled with that earth-shaking feeling of being together. 

“Wade, wait, I gotta,” Peter said in between little gasps.

{We’re gonna rock your world, baby}

[Been waiting  _ so  _ long, gonna change your life, gonna make you feel so good]

Wade pulled back, breathing heavily, pupils blown and cheeks flushed. Peter turned around, shakily fitting his key into the lock. He jiggled the key a couple times before turning it and leaned heavily on the door with his shoulder.

With a thump, the door opened, albeit reluctantly, and Peter pulled Wade inside. This time, Wade was pressed against the wall, and Peter was sinking to his knees, and  _ oh god _ …

  
  


[That was amazing.]

{It was fucking life-altering. We’re never leaving this bed.}

Peter rolled closer to Wade, sighing contentedly, in a sort of half-asleep state. Wade lay in the twisted sheets, a feeling of utter completeness cocooning him. 

“Wade?” Peter asked groggily, looking up at him with a contented smile. Wade grinned back down at him, lazily running his hand through Peter’s soft brown hair, messing it up even more.

“What’s up, baby boy?” Wade asked, feeling utterly complete.

“What time is it?” Peter asked, settling down and putting his head on Wade’s chest. The voices, quiet and soft, were busy cooing over Peter and how amazing he was. 

“Uhhh…” Wade said, trying to turn and look at the clock without jostling Peter. “It’s 10:00. pm.”

Peter sat up suddenly. “Crap!” He said, sounding panic-stricken. 

“What’s the matter, Petey?” Wade asked, a little worried.

{Spiderman!}

[SHIT! We were supposed to meet him tonight! We gotta go!]

 

“Uuuhh, I just realized I have to go over to Ned’s house! We’re supposed to work on his computer project tonight!” Peter said, throwing off the covers and avoiding Wade’s gaze. 

 

{he’s lying.}

 

[didn’t we say he was going to hurt us!]

 

“Guys, let’s not jump to conclusions,” Wade muttered, watching Peter frantically getting dressed. 

 

{what if he’s going to Harry’s!}

 

[Harry’s not the issue. What if this was all just a casual hookup?]

 

Wade felt himself pale.  _ No. _ He thought desperately.  _ Peter loves me. He said so.  _

 

{people lie. People hurt us. Who could  actually love an ugly, lonely piece of shit like us?}

 

[he used us and now he’s leaving. Just like everyone else.]

 

“No!” Wade cried, gripping his head. Peter halted midway through putting his jeans on, staring at Wade in fear and alarm. 

 

“Wade, Wade are you okay?” Peter asked, anxious and afraid. 

 

Wade didn’t hear him. 

 

{no one loves us.}

 

[no one loves you.]

 

{what makes you think we’re worthy of love? Of Peter?}

 

[we’re not worthy of  _ anyone’s _ love.]

 

{we’re alone in this world. Always alone.}

 

“ _ Wade!” _

 

The voices stopped. Wade looked up and saw Peter, hands gripping Wade’s shoulders, inches from his face. 

 

“Petey,” Wade said, the voices washed away by the love in Peter’s eyes, the vivacity of his grip on Wade’s shoulders, tethering him to reality. 

 

Wade dropped his head onto Peter’s shoulder, breathing heavily. Peter said nothing, just pressed his cheek against Wade’s skin and ran a soothing hand up and down his back. 

 

After a minute or two, Wade finally spoke. 

 

“I’m sorry. I’m a mess. You should go. I get why you don’t want to be with me.” His voice was emotionless, muffled by Peter’s skin. He felt like he was talking directly to Peter’s heart, avoiding the beautiful, slightly mournful face that was undoubtedly looking down at him. 

 

Peter looked down at him in shock. “I  _ love _ you, Wade. You’re the  _ only  _ person I want to be with. You make me… you make me me.” Peter whispered, and Wade heard his heartbeat pick up, head still pressed to Peter’s chest. 

 

“... But I have to go, babe. If we’re gonna do this, you gotta trust me.”

 

And Wade  _ did  _ trust him-with all of his life. So he unwrapped his arms from around Peter, ruffled his hair, and smiled waterily. 

 

Peter continued to dress, and Wade let his mind wander, the voices discussing trivial things. Finally, Peter was dressed. He stopped to give Wade a kiss, a smile, and a “call you tomorrow.”

  
  
  


As soon as he was gone, Wade ripped off the covers.

 

{we are gonna be  _ so _ late!}

 

[yeah… spidey’s gonna kill us!]

 

“Calm down guys, we’re only a half hour late. He won’t mind that much,” wade muttered as he hopped into his civilian clothes, grabbed his keys, and bolted for his apartment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd you guys think? Comment if you have any suggestions!


	14. XIV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is the last chapter before the epilogue. Thank you all so much for reading my work! I'm going to start on some other work after this as well, so I'll still be around!

Peter swung through the city, relishing the breeze whipping past him. He landed on the rooftop with a soft  _ thump _ , seeing Deadpool already waiting for him. 

“Spidey! I can  _ not _ believe that you’re late!” Deadpool cried in a loud, overdramatic voice. “I’ve been waiting for  _ hours _ ! I thought you’d stood me up. Eight more minutes and I would’ve given up hope on us. Spidey, do you not love me? Do you not want me? Does your heart not beat for me?” 

Spider-Man rolled his eyes. “What’s got you in a romantic mood, Deadpool? Normally you’re excited to ‘smash some pumpkin-heads’, as you would say.” 

Deadpool grinned and flounced over to Peter. “I’m in love, Spidey. Love, the prettiest of beasts, hath tainted my mind!” 

The other hero rolled his eyes internally. “Who’s the lucky girl? Or guy, that is?” Anyone who could put up with Deadpool was a miracle worker. Plus, the mercenary was happier than he’d seemed in weeks, and Spider-Man was willing to bet his bloodlust was tampered by the infatuation.

“He’s an angel, Spidey. A literal angel. And a great fuckin’ lay. I mean, he’s just beautiful. He goes to Columbia, he’s getting his Masters in biochemistry. And he works at a fancy restaurant, where he met Tony fuckin’ Stark.” Deadpool dropped to the ground, grinning wide. Spider-Man followed, uneasy.

He felt his stomach churn, going through the other men in his classes. Which one?

“He was dating this total assbutt, before. He hurt Peter - that’s his name - and I almost killed that rich son of a bitch. But Petey talked me down. It was rock, getting to where we are now, but I love him so much.”

Peter felt a tear trace down his cheek. All this time, had he been working with Wade? Was Wade this psychopathic murderer that he had spent so much time trying to reform? Peter couldn’t reconcile the two ideas of Wade. He was so kind, so gentle, so funny.

But hadn’t Peter seen Wade break a few times? Didn’t he have those boxes speaking to him? And how had he gotten those scars? He said he worked in personal security, but he never talked about his job with Peter.

Suddenly, everything dawned on Peter. Wade had been up on that rooftop not to look at the city lights, but to  _ spy _ on the professor he was going to murder. 

Peter felt bile rising up in his throat. How could Wade lie to him like that?

But hadn’t Peter done the same thing? Hadn’t he lied, continually, to Wade about who he was and what he did at nights? He  _ just _ lied to him, less than an hour ago.

And Peter felt himself simultaneously forgiving and falling farther in love with Wade. He was broken, but Peter was healing him. And he was healing Peter. 

“Spidey? Earth to Spidey! I was telling you about the love of my life!”

Peter jolted out of his reverie. He reached up to his mask and pulled it over his head, looking out to the city instead of at Wade. 

The torrent of words coming from Wade ceased. He stared at Peter, speechless in his shock.

“P-Peter?” Wade’s voice was soft, scared.

Peter felt a tear slide down his face and drip off of his chin. He still couldn’t bring himself to look over at Wade. 

“Wade?” He asked instead, voice trembling and on the edge of crying. 

“Peter, how are you Spider-Man? And, and why did you lie to me?” Wade asked, voice still unnervingly gentle. Peter expected shouting, maybe even a fist thrown in anger. He had  _ lied,  _ and  done so  for weeks.

“One day, when I was on a field trip, I wandered down to the applied sciences division of Oscorp. Harry told me about the chemical experimentation they were doing down there. I was curious, wanted to talk to the scientists down there. I got lost and ended up in their testing facilities. There was a spider, a radioactive spider, and it was loose. It bit me, and I got sick. Then I got better, and I found out I had these powers. So I decided to do something with them.” 

Peter looked at Wade, tears now streaming silently down his cheeks. “That’s my story. I was going to tell you, I was. Just farther down the road. Only Ned and MJ know. I didn’t want to put you in harm’s way, I just wanted to protect you. Wade, don’t hate me. Please don’t hate me. I  _ love _ you, Wade. Please don’t hate me,”

Peter was sobbing now, and Wade wrenched his mask off, scooting over quickly to wrap Peter in a hug. “Baby boy, how could I hate you? You’re my everything. I love you, and nothing’s gonna stop that. You’re stuck with me, Petey.” Wade was close to tears, gripping Peter as tight as a lifeline. 

“The real question is, baby boy, how are you going to forgive me? I’ve lied to you and done some really terrible things. I'm not personal security. I'm a contract murderer, an assassin and a mercenary. I've lied to you, and I've killed people. I've killed a lot of people, and I took a while to kill them. I've lied to you since the beginning. But baby, I never wanted to hurt you. I wanted to protect you. And I _love_ you. So fuckin' much. I was experimented on by an organization called Weapon X, and they turned me into Deadpool. So when I escaped, I didn't care about anyone, or anything. I'm sorry. I am sorry, Petey.” 

Peter sniffed. “I love you, Wade. nothing’s going to change that. But, god, I’m so scared for you. For us. What’s going to happen to us?”

Wade smiled, rocking Peter back and forth to sooth his boyfriend as much as himself. 

“We’re going to keep living. We’re going to keep fighting, of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd you guys think? I'm going to put up the epilogue today as well. I've got it all written out, so this story will be over soon. Thank you for reading!


	15. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the epilogue! Thank you for reading, guys.

Peter sat on the Butler Library rooftop, waiting on his boyfriend to show up. Since the Night of Revelation, as Wade so humorously called it, they had been meeting there for patrols and impromptu dates. It was their spot, sort of.

Peter spread out on the blanket he laid down on the rough roof tiles. He checked his watch. Wade wasn’t late - yet. He stared at the city, a feeling of pride blossoming in his chest. It was beautiful, and thanks to Wade and himself, safer. Over the past few months they worked together to find and train people of unusual talents. The fantastic four, the defenders, other young vigilantes wanting to make a difference.

Wade trained them during the day, and Peter chaperoned them during the night. 

Hardly a day went by without one of Peter and Wade’s students making the news. Sometimes the anchors praised their selflessness, sometimes they preached about criminals running wild. Either way, the streets were a little safer, a little cleaner. Less cops were getting gutted by gangbangers, and more people could walk home safe. 

The whole idea started when Wade insisted on Peter taking a break from either Spider-Man or his job. He was running himself dry, getting sloppy in school and exposing himself to a lot of danger on the streets. Peter agreed, with reluctance, and they started working on finding other people to pick up the slack.

As for Wade, he wasn’t spending his time killing people, drinking, and killing himself every day. He got a job in a little local bakery in Queens, owned by an elderly woman named Brie who had devoted herself to charity work. She was a friend of blind Al’s, and was overjoyed to give Wade, a marine sent home because of his injuries, a job. 

But that wasn’t why Wade got that job. Every day, hungry kids that Brie gave a little warmth stopped by, looking for something to eat. He gave them a piece of cake or a donut, along with a bit of advice. He showed some kids how to throw a punch, others how to let one go. He gave a couple of would-be dropouts Peter’s number, and they got tutoring and went on to be a little happier, a little safer. He gave some kids on the brink of turning to crime hope, advice from a “former shithead”, as he put it.

Peter was in love. And so happy. He graduated from Columbia and Wade threw a huge party, inviting his friends, his family, and somehow Tony Stark. At that party, Stark gave him an envelope and a wink before going back to his whiskey. Peter was getting his PhD in biochemistry on a Stark Industries scholarship, and he couldn’t wait to graduate and start working for Pepper Potts. 

  
  
  


Wade climbed up the side of the building, humming to himself. The boxes, once so controlling and prevalent, were chattering in the background. They were almost always in the background now. Still there, still voicing his basest instincts and wants, still providing him company and humor, but not as vital as they once were. He had friends now, Peter, a job, and the boxes weren’t needed as much. 

 

{Petey’s gonna be so excited!}   
  


[Yeah he is! He has  _ no _ idea we’re proposing tonight!]

 

“I know guys. I can’t believe we didn’t tell him on accident!” Wade responded, grinning to himself. 

 

[Wait, we still have the ring, right?!]

 

{No, goddamnit, we lost it in that alley fight!}

 

“Ah, fuck! What else can we use?”

 

[Check your pockets!]

 

Wade grinned. This was going to be  _ good _ . 

  
  


“Peter! Love of my life! Saint of the disenfranchised! How come you to this darkened rooftop?” Wade called, watching Peter sit up and grin at him. God, he loved that boy so much.

 

“You, genius. What’s going on? Couldn’t you say something at home, like a normal person?” Peter asked, mirth dancing in his voice.

 

“Baby boy, you know me better than to expect normal. I have a proposal for you!” Wade said, accompanied by many flourishes. 

 

“Oh really? What’re we doing now, Wade? Taking puppies in from the streets and training them to be wolves?”

 

“Not even close, Petey.” Wade said, reaching Peter and squatting in front of him. He smiled, genuinely, so incredibly happy to see the love of his life. Peter smiled back, and the moment hung in the air, two lovers seeing only each other. 

 

Wade switched to a kneeling position and put his hands behind his back. 

 

“Peter, you have made me so incredibly happy, I don’t even know how to describe it. You saved me, taught me how to love and how to feel again. If it hadn’t been for you, I would have kept going through life as a badass murderer. But you showed me that wasn’t chill. You made me whole again, you showed me how to find purpose with my life. You make bad puns. Baby boy, I want to grow old and nasty with you.” Wade said, staring into Peter’s wide, dark eyes. They were brimming with tears now, his hands holding Wade’s. 

 

“Wade, what’re you-”

 

“Shh, baby boy. Lemme finish. I want to grow old and nasty with you. I want to fuck with you forever. Five ever. Infinity ever. I’m rambling, okay… I want to watch you walk into poles because you’re too busy reading until I die. I want to beat you in a taco eating contest every day for the rest of our lives. I want to beat little shits up with you every night, and then fuck in our bed. Or not in our bed. You know I’m a freaky bitch, I’m up for whatever. Fuck, I’m rambling again. Pull it  _ together _ , Wilson!” 

 

Peter laughed, shakily, slinging his arms around Wade’s neck.

 

“Fuck, my knees hurt. Petey, will you marry me?” Wade asked, bringing his hand around from behind his back to reveal an opened ring pop. 

 

Peter started laughing and crying at the same time, burying his head in Wade’s jacket. 

 

[Did he say yes!]

 

{Shut the fuck up!}

 

Peter looked back up at Wade, grinning widely. “Of course, you big idiot. I want to marry you so hard, I can’t walk for days!”

 

Wade grinned, tears slipping down his face, now. “I’ve never been more in love with you, Petey. You made a sex joke. I want to fuck you right now.”

 

Peter smiled, admiring his ring pop. “Then do it,” he said, voice low, looking up at Wade through his eyelashes,

 

Wade groaned, and pulled Peter to the ground, meeting his lips with a fierce kiss. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Peter smiled at Wade, laying across from him on the blanket. Wade smiled back, holding his new fiance’s hand. They looked back at the city, peaceful in their bliss.


End file.
